


Treated Well

by Iliad06



Series: Something Good [2]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Master/Slave, Rimming, Staring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-04 16:51:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12172926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iliad06/pseuds/Iliad06
Summary: Tadeas never asked for any of this. He definitely didn't ask for Gareth, but the captain is nothing like he thought and everything he needs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the story of my two OMC's in Something Good. I was blown away by the amount of people who loved my characters Gareth and Tadeas and decided to share their story online. This is NOT a story about Torveld/Erasmus, although they will show up in the background. If you haven't read Something Good yet, you'll probably want to go do that!

Tadeas never asked for any of this. He never asked to be a slave in Akielos. His parents were poor and sold him to the palace as soon as he was off breast milk. The only parents he knew were his trainers, who punished him time and again when he couldn’t submit exactly how they wanted. He learned over time to mold his body and wipe his face of expression until he was the picture of tantalizing submission. Only his thoughts remained his own.

He never asked to be trained to be a pleasure slave. While watching lovers copulate day after day was entertaining, he did not like the expectations his trainers had of him. No kissing anyone. No touching anyone. No one can touch you. No touching yourself. The list went on and on to ensure Tadeas was as pure and untouched as possible to be sold to the highest noble of the Akielos court. 

He never asked to be shipped off to Vere. He was vulgar, snarky, and rude. He knew that; he owned it. But his crude thoughts were never shared with a noble or a trainer. Only slaves heard his witty comments. Most blushed but said nothing in response. He imagined he was helping with their training. Their masters would undoubtedly say worse and expect them to participate in worse acts so Tadeas figured they may as well get used to it. The other slaves must not have seen the value in his education. Someone told a trainer and the next thing Tadeas knew, he was bound and on a ship with twenty-four other slaves, exiled from Akeilos.

He never asked to be a target in Vere. They were told little as they were shoved into the dark hull of a ship, except they were part of a treaty with Vere. They had been sold to a master in a country Akielos usually despised. Some slaves were eager about the prospect of having a master. They were stupid. Trepidation tickled Tadeas’s spine as the ship creaked. They didn’t know the language. How could they be expected to serve?

They weren’t expected to serve. Only to be the pawn in a game of cruelty the likes of which Tadeas had never imagined. Men and women took their pleasure and their frustration out on him. Tadeas fought every time. He struggled as he was held down. He cursed and yelled obscenities in Veretian so they knew exactly how much he didn’t want what was happening. They laughed and took from him. He was powerless. He became a target: the mouthy slave that was entertaining to overpower. Nicaise told him they even had a betting pool about who would break him and how long it would take. Tadeas fought even harder after that.

Tadeas fought until Alaric, the servant from Patras, fetched him from the garden, freshly bruised and bloody from a particularly rough Veretian soldier. Alaric brought with him tidings of Patras, a warm bath, and a healing salve.

Tadeas never asked to be sold to Patras either, but he would take it. Anything was better than Vere. Anything.

The first few days as a Patran slave were spent on a ship with the other Akeilon slaves. He thought it would be nice to be surrounded by his people again, but they distanced themselves after a few choice phrases. He tried to curb his commentary, he really did, but the wall between his mind and his mouth had crumbled in Vere. No matter what he did, it seemed irreparable. Thoughts spewed from his mouth unbidden until the rest of the slaves gave him a wide berth.

The final night on the ship, finds Tadeas asleep alone on a pallet in the corner while the other slaves huddle together for warmth and comfort. The blanket over him is thin and does little shield the draft, but sleep finds Tadeas regardless. He is exhausted from all day, unrelenting worry.

Sensations float through his mind: a woman laughing, strong hands holding him down, burning pain against his skin, cruel commands in a language he doesn’t understand. He struggles but it is no use. The pain continues and the fear chokes him. Not again. Not again. Not again.

The ship lurches and the wood makes a loud creaking sound. Tadeas eyes fly open. He’s panting and sweating, blanket tangled around his feet in his struggles. It was only a nightmare. Relief should flood through him but fear still grips his heart like an iron manacle. What if Patras is worse than Vere? Could such a thing be possible?

It’s late. The sun is not set to rise for a few hours according to the glimmer of sky he can see through a porthole. Still, he knows he will find no comfort in sleep. He aches to wake another Akeilon slave and to unburden his thoughts but he will find no comfort there. The other slaves are naïve, stupid really. All hopeful that Patras will be better than Vere. The hope is unfounded; they will still be slaves.

Tadeas kicks the blanket from his legs and leaves the room with soft footsteps to ensure the rest of the slaves still sleep. Alaric is his handler but, more importantly, Alaric knows Patras. If anyone can bring light to his dark worries, it will be the man who has served Patras for most of his life.

Light streams from the crack in the door frame and Tadeas knocks once, lightly, knowing that Alaric is awake and will hear him. He is not kept waiting long. The door opens to reveal the man servant, still dressed in his clothes from the day.

“Do you ever sleep?” he scoffs, then wishes he hadn’t as Alaric’s sharp eyes search his face. 

“Do you?” Cool fingertips brush against the darkened skin underneath his eyes. His skin burns. Tadeas hates the casual touch but he allows it. He needs something from Alaric and it doesn’t help to fight the man before he’s in the door.

Alaric motions Tadeas into the room and the slave doesn’t hesitate to enter and seat himself in one of the wooden chairs around a small table. Papers litter the table’s surface but Tadeas knows better than to read the missives without permission, although his curiosity begs him too. It’s probably just stupid supply logs anyway. 

Alaric places a goblet before him and the dark liquid swirls with the motion of the ship.

“Wine,” Alaric says, when Tadeas looks at him in confusion, “to help you fortify yourself and loosen your tongue.”

Tadeas knows what wine is, he isn’t stupid, but slaves are not usually given it in abundance. He picks up the goblet and swallows the entire contents of the glass.

“You may regret that later,” Alaric says, although he pushes a goblet of water towards the younger man, which Tadeas sips from slowly. “Tell me what troubles you.”

“Troubles me?” Tadeas chokes on a laugh. Troubles are trivial and what weighs on Tadeas is anything but trivial.

“I’m assuming you’re not in my quarters in the middle of the night to discuss the weather.”

The young man fiddles with the goblet, finger tracing over the uneven rim as he thinks on how to answer. Alaric remains quiet as he thinks until he starts to feel the wine blurry on the edges of his mind and warm in his limbs. It is not enough to get drunk but he welcomes the fuzzy feeling it brings.

“I’m worried about Patras,” he says finally, eyes still trained on the goblet.

“What about Patras?” Alaric asks.

“I’m worried I’ll get in trouble.”

“Knowing what I know of you after a few days, you probably will at some point.”

The blunt statement feels like a sharp blade lodged between his ribs. Alaric is right. He will get in trouble. There’s no avoiding it. He’ll get in trouble and be given to a cruel master to fix him and he’ll get hurt and he’ll fight and he’ll be cast from Patras and—Calloused fingers brush against the top of his hand, circle his wrist, and grip lightly until he turns his attention to the man across from him.

“You’re babbling,” Alaric says softly. His eyes are kind and warm with concern. “Say that again, slower and clearer so that I can understand you.”

Tadeas wasn’t aware of the babbling, but he takes in a deep breath and tries to formulate his worries into a coherent sentence.

“I’m worried about what my master will be like. I know I’m not supposed to think about these things, but I can’t seem to stop myself after everything that happened in Vere.”

“What worries you about your future master?” That Alaric does not admonish him for his thoughts fills Tadeas with a gentle flicker of courage, enough to continue. Perhaps it’s the wine.

“I’m worried I’ll be punished for my mouth.”

“What punishment worries you the most?”

Tears spring to his eyes, but he chokes down a mouthful of water and blinks them away. He won’t cry about Vere. He won’t even think of it.

“I worry I’ll be given to a cruel master to put me in my place or…”

“Or?” Alaric prompts when Tadeas is quiet for too long.

“Or that I’ll be cast from the palace and available to anyone for the taking.”

The servant is quiet for a moment, his fingers brushing across Tadeas’s wrist as he seems to run over the slave’s words in his mind. Tadeas is glad for the moment of thought, although the touch is beginning to make his skin feel strange. The silence gives him a chance to get his eyes under control until they no longer water and burn at the edges. That Alaric thinks it through as opposed to just respond immediately with platitudes all at once worries and calms Tadeas. Maybe Alaric realizes how much Tadeas fears are founded or maybe he gives thought to any issue before responding.

“I don’t think that’ll happen,” Alaric says. Tadeas opens his mouth to protest, but the servant barrels forward. “Patras is very similar to Akeilos in culture. The Patran court knows the value of slaves, especially a slave from Akeilos. You will be treated well.”

“And what if I say the wrong thing?”

“The court will be made aware of what happened to you in Vere.” Tadeas winces. He doesn’t want anyone to know that. Alaric squeezes his wrist until he looks up from the table. “In Patras, it is a master’s duty to protect and care for a slave. That is how slaves are honored. They’ll need to know what you went through to care for you properly.”

“But still, what if I say the wrong thing?”

Alaric runs his free hand over the scruff of his jaw in thought for a moment.

“Any master worth their salt will realize it is how you respond to what happened to you.”

Tadeas can feel his eyebrows raise high in shock, but Alaric only shrugs. 

“I was like this in Akeilos,” Tadeas says. “That’s what got me sent to Vere in the first place.”

“Listen,” the servant grasps both of Tadeas’s hands in his own. Tadeas tries to pull his hands away, unused to the gentle touch of another, but Alaric holds strong. “You have been through a lot. I know that you are scared, but Patras is nothing like Vere. Veretians do not see any value in slaves and they do not understand the beauty that they threw away by hurting you.

“Masters in Patras are kind. They will have expectations and rules, but they will not be cruel in their demands or in their punishments. Rely on your training.”

“What if I can’t submit like I used to?”

“You can. With time.” Alaric pats the back of his tan hand. “You faced worse cruelties than most of the slaves. I will make sure Prince Torveld knows so he can ensure your master is patient.”

Tadeas rips his hands back and glares at the man across from him. “And if no one wants me after they find out how used I am?” he snaps, rubbing at the skin of his hands to erase the servant’s itchy touch.

“Oh Tadeas,” Alaric sighs. Pity swims in his brown eyes and makes the itch from Tadeas’s hands spread over his body. He glares and tucks his hands into his armpits to keep from fidgeting. “You do not understand what you have to offer.”

“I understand perfectly well what I have to offer.” Anger courses through his body, making his limbs tingle and his face burn with heat. He pushes to his feet and looks down at the servant with an upturned lip. “Two holes for a master to take his pleasure. That’s what I have to offer,” he snarls. “Hopefully it is enough to keep me under a roof and not on the streets.”

Tadeas storms out of the room, leaving the door open in a petty attempt to infuriate Alaric as much as the man has infuriated him. The memory of that gaze filled with pity and those hands meant to comfort wash over Tadeas’s body like a thick sludge. He doesn’t want pity. He doesn’t want to be handled with gentle hands. He doesn’t want his future master to know about his defects. Yet, he is powerless to prevent these things.

He trudges up the wooden stairs towards the deck of the ship. The moon has begun its descent towards the horizon, although sunrise is still hours away. Still, Tadeas knows there will be no more sleep for him tonight. He leans against the rail and watches as dark waves lap at the side of the ship. When they reach Bazal, he will need to pull on every memory of his training to get his mouth under control. He will act the part of doting, submissive slave until he is safe, protected, and Vere is a distant memory.


	2. Chapter 2

Prince Torveld is an idiot, Tadeas muses as Alaric hands him a pair of riding pants. He is quick to pull on the pants underneath his tunic, relishing the fabric against the skin of his legs. Sure, the fabric is a little scratchy and uncomfortable to his sensitive skin, but the pants provide an extra layer of protection he didn’t have in Vere. 

The idiot prince’s plans become more clear as Alaric moves among the slaves. First, the slaves were divided into two groups: slaves who had ridden a horse before and those who hadn’t. Now, those in the first group have been given pants meant for riding, padded at the buttocks and thighs to provide support for long days on horseback. Alaric steps away to lead the group of slaves with no riding experience to the cart. Tadeas can’t help the protests bubbling at his lips.

“They can’t be planning to give us our own horses,” he says, voice filled with obvious distaste. “We aren’t that skilled at riding.”

A few slaves hush him, eyes darting to Alaric to make sure he did not overhear. Tadeas stops himself from making a face at them, but it is a near thing. 

“Prince Torveld is wise,” Erasmus, a slim, pretty slave says, affection clear in his tone. It makes Tadeas’s lip curl. “He has a plan.”

Unbidden anger rushes through him. Erasmus has been a favorite from the start, treated nicely and given quarters with the prince. He has nothing to worry about, unlike the rest of the slaves. The prince’s golden pin rests on his shoulders and Tadeas wants to rip it off him, to take away his security, to make him feel the fear the rest of the slaves should be feeling but aren’t because they’re stupid as well.

Touching Erasmus would be a mistake, but Tadeas can lash him with his tongue. “Did he tell you the plan before or after he fucked you?” 

“He didn’t tell me the plan.” The blonde’s face remains passive and Tadeas wants to strike him. 

“Then what do you know?” he snarls and crosses his arms over his chest to keep from reaching out to strangle the loyalty and calm submission from the slave. 

“Patras is nothing like Vere. You will be treated well there.” 

“Easy to say when you already know your master.” Tadeas winces inwardly. He did not wish to reveal that worry to an idiot slave who trusts too easily. In Vere, Erasmus was targeted just as much as Tadeas, although for different reasons. He cannot understand how he remains so unaffected, so unworried about the cruelty that they could be stepping into in Patras.

Erasmus turns away from him, eyes lighting with affection as they both see Prince Torveld approach. It turns Tadeas’s stomach sour. 

The men lead five mares to the group of slaves as Torveld begins to detail the plan of the journey to Bazal, including his plan to have each slave paired to ride a horse together. The other slaves listen with rapt attention but Tadeas’s mind and gaze wander. He has no interest in the words of a prince, especially one who can’t count. Tadeas is surrounded by eleven other slaves and there are only five horses to ride. Idiot prince.

“Tadeas,” the deep voice makes him flinch. How does the prince know his name? He stares hard at Torveld’s boots, worried of making himself more of a target. Did Alaric hear his argument with Erasmus? Cold fear trickles through his chest. Will he be banished before they’ve even begun the journey? 

He grips his fingers hard behind his back and swallows the worries down as Torveld continues. “Tadeas, you will ride with Lord Gareth.”

Relief is a wave splashing through his stomach to cool the sour knots that wind and twist. He isn’t in trouble. At least, not yet.

His eyes follow Torveld’s finger to a young man already sitting astride a tall, brown stallion. Lord Gareth meets his gaze and smiles, a lopsided, easy grin. His chestnut hair falls around his face in effortless waves. He is slighter than the men around him and can’t be more than 23 years old, making him very young for the Captain’s badge that gleams on his chest. Tadeas doesn’t know much about being a soldier, but he knows that captains earn their badges through brute strength, a tactical mind, and finesse with a sword. 

The fear is back, hammering at his chest. He was wrong. He is in trouble and he is being paired with a ruthless captain to sort him out with wandering hands and cruel remarks. His training urges him to fall to his knees in front of Torveld or Gareth or both and apologize for whatever wrong he may have committed. His pride has him lifting his chin and stomping towards Gareth instead. If he’s to be punished, he will take his punishment without groveling. 

Halfway to the horse, a plan begins to hatch in the young slave’s mind, a way to ensure the captain delegates him to ride in a cart instead.

Gareth offers a hand but Tadeas ignores it and pulls himself onto the saddle. In one swift movement, he presses his entire body against the firm body before him. He wraps his arms tight around Gareth’s waist, presses his hips forward into the curve of Gareth’s backside, and even cups the man’s legs with his own. 

“I can’t wait for us to ride,” he murmurs directly into Gareth’s ear. “Your ass will feel so nice moving against my cock.” He flicks the tip of his tongue against Gareth’s earlobe and grins at the shudder of disgust he can feel travel up the captain’s spine.

Gareth turns and Tadeas fights not to back down when piercing brown eyes stare at him from only inches away. He’s too close. Gareth searches his face for a second and his lips twist into a pleased smirk. He leans forward, bringing his mouth close to Tadeas’s ear.

“You’re bluffing,” he whispers. 

Heat floods Tadeas’s cheeks as Gareth pulls back and smiles at him. The young man’s arm drop in surprise and make it easier for the captain to turn around and nudge forward in the saddle to create space between their bodies. Tadeas stares at wavy tresses, eyes wide and unseeing, unable to think of anything other than: how did he know?

Gareth clicks his tongue and the horse begins to move forward in a steady trot that barely rocks his riders. The young man’s legs tighten against the beast’s ribs and he scrambles to brace himself against the back of the saddle instead of wrapping his arms around Gareth again. He doesn’t want to touch him.


	3. Chapter 3

They travel in silence for an hour. The stallion moves at a lazy trot some ten yards ahead of the rambling group of men, carts, and slaves. The captain was tasked with riding ahead today to look out for any obstacles on the path and it is clear to Tadeas that Gareth takes his role seriously, even as he maneuvers the horse off the road every so often to jump fallen logs for no reason Tadeas can work out other than Gareth finds it fun. 

Throughout the ride, Tadeas leans back, grips the back ridge of the saddle tight, and squeezes his legs together around the horse to keep his seat. He doesn’t want to touch Gareth if he doesn’t have to.

“You know,” the captain says in a gentle voice, the first words they’ve said since the company started moving, “you’re going to be very sore tonight if you keep riding like that.”

Tadeas scoffs but says nothing. He’ll take sore muscles over cuddling up to a stranger whose motives remain unclear.

Gareth clicks his tongue and urges his stallion into a fast trot, heading towards the biggest log yet. The stallion clears the log with little exertion, its hind quarters bumping up and dislodging Tadeas’s grip on the saddle. He crashes forward against Gareth’s back with an “oof!” and grips his waist hard to keep from falling sideways off the saddle as they land.

“That’s better,” Gareth laughs and pats the back of his hand. Tadeas jerks away and inches back in the saddle again, away from the warm body before him.

“Fuck off,” he murmurs, rubbing at the tingling skin on the back of his hand.

“Hard to do on a horse, although I am always up for an adventure.”

“Yeah? How about you adventure into the woods and I’ll take your horse to Bazal myself?”

Gareth laughs, loud and booming, and the noise makes Tadeas scowl. The captain is strange. The things that should make him angry, especially coming from the mouth of a slave, only seem to entertain him. Tadeas’s plan to be sent to a cart or to at least create more distance between them only amuses Gareth. It’s going to be a long three days. And he still doesn’t understand…

“How did you know?” he asks and wishes he hadn’t. His fingers grip onto the saddle behind him, numb with how they’ve been holding tightly all day, and he stares at the back of the chestnut head.

“Know what?”

“That I was bluffing.”

Gareth is quiet for long enough that the slave begins to think he won’t answer. 

“You ignored my hand,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. 

“So?”

“So it would not have hurt you or your pride to take my hand and let me help you onto the horse. Emanon is tall and you are rather short.”

“I’m sixteen,” Tadeas snaps. “I have growing years to come still.”

Gareth chuckles. “Still, the only reason you would ignore my hand is if you didn’t like people touching you and with what you faced in Vere, I knew you had to be bluffing.”

Apprehension swells in Tadeas’s chest and makes it hard to squeeze out the next words. “You know what happened in Vere?”

Gareth pulls his horse to a stop and twists in the saddle. “I accompany the prince on all of his visits. I have a good idea of how Akeilon slaves would be treated by the Veretian court.” His brown eyes are dark and stormy, all traces of his earlier easy humor gone. “I wish I had not witnessed it.”

Tadeas blushes bright and turns his head, not in submission but to conceal his own emotion from the captain. “Did you see me?” he asks, voice soft and timid. He hates it. He hates the fear that still lingers hundreds of miles away from Vere.

Fingers bump the bottom of his chin, but do not grasp, and that has Tadeas looking up at Gareth instead of flinching away. “If I had seen someone abusing a beautiful man like you, I would have run them through with a sword and started a war between Patras and Vere.”

“You would lose your captaincy.”

Gareth shrugs. “Have you seen how Prince Torveld cares for Erasmus? If he had seen the brands on his legs as they were happening, I believe the entire court of Vere would have been vanquished.”

Green eyes search brown for a moment before Tadeas has to glance away from the weight of that stare. He knows Gareth is a captain, the badge on his chest declares him so, but he was not expecting the fierce protectiveness to be directed towards him. 

Gareth clicks his tongue and Emanon starts to move forward onto the road again. 

“You Patrans are very protective of slaves,” Tadeas says.

“Of course,” Gareth responds flippantly.

“Why?”

“We understand the value of beauty.”

“And submission?” He tries not to spit the word, but he can’t help it.

“Perhaps the others value submission. I value bravery and a sharp mind.”

Tadeas cocks his head at that but Gareth is looking forward again. It seems he was wrong before. He was not paired with Gareth to be put in his place. He was only paired with the older man because Torveld knew he would be protected. 

His hands are numb and his legs starting to feel sore from gripping onto Emanon to stay upright. He inches forward in the saddle, rests his chest against Gareth’s back, and loops his arms in a lazy circle around his waist. Gareth hums his approval but says nothing, for which Tadeas is grateful. He closes his eyes, suddenly exhausted from riding tense, and relaxes fully against the captain.

“Sleep, Tadeas. I’ll make sure you do not fall.”

“How did you...?” he mumbles. The last thing he hears is a soft rumble of laughter.

***  
Tadeas naps against Gareth for about an hour before he is woken by Gareth’s laughter to find Erasmus sharing a Akeilon children’s tale about trolls and poison ivy. He sits up fully in the saddle, rubbing at his eyes as Gareth looks over his shoulder with a smirk.

“Sleep well?” He nods and ignores the bright smile coming from the nymph-like slave riding next to them. Erasmus looks like he wants to say something, but turns his attention forward when Torveld squeezes his thigh and points at a mountain in the distance.

“Did Prince Torveld dismiss you from scouting duty?” Tadeas asks and Gareth laughs.

“No, he couldn’t get rid of me if he tried.”

“And I have tried,” the prince quips, pulling a laugh from both Erasmus and Gareth.

Tadeas is quiet for a moment. They’re walking with the group now at a slow, even pace that no longer requires him to hold onto the saddle or Gareth’s waist. He’s grateful to be able to lean back a little, to put some distance between their bodies. He feels rested and relaxed, even with Gareth sitting inches from him. In Vere, his skin crawled and his hair stood at attention whenever someone came within ten feet of him, especially a guard.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, staring at his fingers as they fidget in his lap.

“For what?” The confusion is evident in his voice and Tadeas wants to groan. He hates explaining things like gratefulness and apologies. Shouldn’t saying it be enough? He has much to be thankful to Gareth for: for not forcing the slave to touch him, for calling him beautiful, for not making it a big deal when Tadeas finally did touch him.

“For letting me sleep on you,” he says finally. Anything else would reveal too much.

Gareth glances over his shoulder, a twinkle of joy in his brown eyes. “You needed sleep. I’m happy to be of service any time you want a pillow.” He winks and shocks a laugh out of the young slave.

Tadeas considers his teasing for a moment, then leans forward and rests against Gareth’s back again. He loops his arms loosely around the man’s waist but keeps his eyes open this time to watch the trees pass by as they move. He doesn’t need to hold onto Gareth to keep his balance, but it is comfortable and the feel of his chest pressed to the long, lean back doesn’t make his skin crawl. Perhaps it’s because he’s initiating or because Gareth isn’t touching him back. Either way, he relaxes and strikes up a conversation with the older man about their journey so far.


	4. Chapter 4

They set up camp when the sun is an hour from setting. Gareth orders men and slave alike to start fires, pitch tents, and secure horses. Tadeas is tasked with helping the men start fires and he keeps his distance from the gruff soldiers who jostle each other as they stack wood and light it with flint. Soon, the camp is settled, the men are eating, and some slaves are waiting on the soldiers out of their own sense of duty, not on command. 

Tadeas gulps down a piece of bread and a skin of cool water as he stands away from the fire. He watches warily as slaves move in and out of the men, relaxed in their element of serving. He doesn’t understand how they can move so freely amongst the roughened soldiers whose eyes linger on curved hips and bare thighs. He doesn’t see any wandering hands, but the leering looks and muttered phrases from one soldier to another makes his skin itch.

He feels eyes on him, the hair on the back of his neck raising, and casts his glance around to find an older soldier staring at him from across the fire. Tadeas glares and the soldier smirks. A female slave kneels at the soldier’s side and offers him a skin of water. The soldier’s stare leaves Tadeas and falls to the woman’s chest instead. Tadeas cannot help but feel relief and quickly squashes the rising guilt in his throat. If she wants to serve when she does not have to that is her choice, but he won’t stay at the fire to witness the result.

Tadeas makes his way through the camp to a tent that is slightly larger than the common soldier ones surrounding it. He hesitates at the entrance—How does one knock on a tent and ask for entrance anyway? —before pushing the flap up and shoving his way inside. Gareth looks up from a piece of parchment, eyebrows climbing his hairline in surprise.

He knows how this looks: a pleasure slave entering a man’s tent after dark so close to the time when the camp will turn to bed for sleeping and other things.

“I’m not here for you to fuck me,” Tadeas announces by way of explanation. He flushes hot and stares at the ground, clenching his fists behind his back.

There is a sound of parchment being set aside and Gareth clearing his throat. “Good. I’m not here for you to fuck me either so I’m glad we have that established.”

Tadeas flushes harder, mortified, and shuts his eyes tight. He had no right to come here. His body trembles with his shame and he’s unsure how to make his request. Boots move across the grass floor with a soft hushing sound and stop right before him. A hand grips his shoulder and the heat of it burns through the fabric of his tunic. He fights the urge to flinch away. He’s asking Gareth for something and he won’t get what he wants if he rebukes the man.

“Why are you here?” Gareth asks softly and it doesn’t sound reproachful like Tadeas feared.

“I…” he hesitates and Gareth squeezes his shoulder. “I don’t trust the men. C-can I stay here?”

“Are you saying you trust me?”

“No!” he snaps and shoves the captain’s hand from his shoulder. Gareth smirks and raises one eyebrow in a clear challenge to try and explain himself. Tadeas sighs.

“I mean… I guess… I know you won’t—you know.” He stares at the tip of Gareth’s boots and wishes he was anywhere but in this tent right now. Then he remembers the leer of the man at the fire. Maybe not anywhere…

“I have one condition,” Gareth says in a low voice. Tadeas eyes widen and his spine trembles. Gareth was going to demand service as repayment. The slave had read him all wrong and now he is going to pay for it with his body.

“Sire, please,” he begs, voice wavering and he hates himself for it.

Fingers ghost along his cheek and he flinches away as if scalded. “Tadeas, it is not what you think.” The slave lifts wary, green eyes to meet concerned, brown ones. “I ask only that you share my pallet to rid you of these dark circles under your eyes. I will not touch you, you have my word.”

Relief sweeps through his chest, cooling the anxiety that clenches his heart. He’s only known Gareth for a day, but he can’t help but trust that the man will keep his word. The captain exudes honor.

He nods and the smile that spreads across Gareth’s lips is easy and makes him look younger. 

“Unless of course, you want me to touch you,” Gareth adds with a wink. Tadeas laughs, only slightly strangled, and shoves at the older man’s shoulder.

“Unlikely.”

“I don’t know. You did lay against me all afternoon.” Tadeas flushes but can’t think of a witty response before a yawn has his mouth splitting open. The captain ushers him onto the pallet and covers him with a thin summer blanket before stepping back to gather the parchment from before. It feels good to lay down after a long day of riding and a long journey of sleepless nights. Tadeas nuzzles further into the blanket, limbs already heavy with impending sleep.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” Tadeas murmurs into the soft padding below his head.

“Later, I promise.” If Gareth’s voice is a little rougher than normal, the slave doesn’t have a moment to think about what that means before sleep overtakes him.

***  
The first thing Tadeas is aware of is that it’s warm. Too warm. The second is his body pressed against something that is decidedly not a pallet. That something is the source of the heat and rises and falls gently beneath his head. He blinks his eyes open to find himself pressed to Gareth’s side from shoulder to ankle, his head resting on the captain’s smooth, bare chest.

He squeaks and scrambles back from the too warm body. Gareth groans and opens bleary eyes to look at him.

“What is it?” he asks through a yawn. The brunette pushes himself into a sitting position, making the blanket pool in his lap and reveal his slim, muscled chest to the slave. Tadeas looks away.

“I don’t like touch.” He fiddles with the edge of the blanket and tries to slow his breathing from the panicked pants that wrack his chest.

Gareth cocks his head and considers the slave for a moment. The gaze makes Tadeas want to squirm, but he stares back, daring Gareth to contradict him.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“How the fuck would you know?” he snarls, lip upturned.

Gareth shrugs and holds out a hand. “Let me see your hand.”

“Why?”

“A test. I will only touch your hand, nothing beyond your wrist.”

Tadeas doesn’t know what compels him to listen, probably his slave training that makes him eager to please. There is a slight tremble in his fingers as he places his hand in Gareth’s outstretched one. Gareth doesn’t react, merely studies their hands together for a moment, dark olive against cream. 

Tadeas moves to pull his hand away but Gareth grasps his. 

“Please,” he says softly, eyes still focused on the smaller hand in his grip. Tadeas stares at the lowered head, wavy hair a nest of chaotic mess from sleep, and concedes. If the man wants to see his hand, it is a small price to pay for the restful sleep he got to indulge in for the first time since leaving Akeilos.

In the next moment, he wishes he could jerk his hand back. A warm palm cups his hand as calloused fingers trace up the back of one finger from nail to wrist, down the next finger, and then back up again. His hand twitches and the skin tingles from the slow, gentle touch. Gareth reaches his thumb and the relief is palpable in his chest. Surely, Gareth has touched his fill and he can take his hand back.

Gareth isn’t done. He turns Tadeas hand over, cradles the back of it, and begins to trace his palm in the same way. The tingling intensifies, all at once ticklish and pleasurable. Tadeas whimpers as the calloused fingers run over the center of his palm. He can feel himself reacting underneath the blankets, swelling with heat and pleasure, and he wants to jerk his hand away and leave the tent. Gareth doesn’t look up at him, only smiles at his noise, and keeps tracing his hand. 

What seems like hours later but is really only moments, Gareth’s questing fingers find their way to the top of his hand and circle gently around his wrist. Tadeas entire hand still tingles and his body trembles with small sparks of pleasure. Gareth’s eyes raise to his and Tadeas flushes at the storm of lust within them. A thumb brushes back and forth across his wrist, but Gareth doesn’t press him down into the pallet like he expects of guards and men who think only with their cock.

“It seems,” Gareth’s voice is low with his want and makes Tadeas shudder, “you do not hate touch given your reaction to mine.”

Tadeas opens his mouth to protest but Gareth cuts him off with a single finger held aloft. “What you hate is touch that you are not permitted to say ‘no’ to, am I right?”

The slave nods, gritting his teeth and trying to pull his hand away. The tent is too small and the air is heavy. He needs to get out, walk in the fresh morning air, and watch the sun rise over the horizon. 

Gareth’s grip tightens on his wrist and he tugs until Tadeas looks at him instead of the walls of the tent. His brown eyes are bright with emotion, imploring. Tadeas’s training makes him want to look away from the display, to submit, but he finds himself compelled to stare back.

“You can say ‘no’ to me and I will listen,” Gareth says.

“You expect me to believe that?” he snaps.

“In time.”

“No.” He means he won’t believe him, but Gareth unwinds his fingers from the slim wrist and Tadeas’s hand falls into his own lap. Surprise fills him even as he brings his hand up to his chest and tries to rub the itch away. It seems the captain plans to prove he is true to his word, not just say something and do the opposite like most men.

“I have a proposal,” he says, watching the slave with a carefully blank expression. Tadeas can feel his eyebrows knit together. “You’re aroused. Let me touch you again, just your hand, while you take care of it.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it won’t be comfortable for either of us for you to ride with an erection.”

“I can take care of it myself.”

“Then allow me to be selfish, I want to see to your pleasure and this is the only way I believe you will let me.” 

Tadeas wants to argue. He wants to kick Gareth out of the tent, or will down the erection, or leave and hope it goes away itself. But he hasn’t been this aroused since Akeilos. His lap is warm and pulsing and all he wants is relief. Later, he will blame the pleasure for clouding his judgement but Gareth made his hand feel good and he wants that again.

He bites his lip and nods once. Gareth grins, even as Tadeas glares at him defiantly, and reaches out to grasp his hand again. 

“It might be easier if you lay down,” he murmurs against the slave’s fingertips, ghosting over each one with a gentle kiss. Tadeas shakes his head. He isn’t ready to be so vulnerable to the man beside him. He pushes the blanket aside and hikes the edge of his tunic up around his hips to reveal bronze thighs and his stiff cock. Gareth groans at the sight and the noise makes the hairs on Tadeas’s neck stand up. He almost pushes his tunic down and leaves the tent, but when he looks up, he finds Gareth watching his face, fingers idly stroking along his hand again. His expression is one of lust, yes, and of adoration. He smiles when he finds Tadeas looking at him.

“Would you like me to touch you?”

Tadeas shakes his head. Having the man beside him is enough to make blood thrum in his veins without letting the man touch him. Not one for ceremony, he takes himself in hand at the base and strokes to the top of his cock, squeezing lightly at the head. He moans and shudders as pleasure alights in his stomach. It has been too long since he did this.

“Slow down.”

“Don’t tell me how to touch myself,” he snaps, speeding up his wrist just to be contrary. 

Gareth chuckles, breath hot against Tadeas’s palm. He smiles for a moment against his fingertips, then sucks one long finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digit. Tadeas whimpers as shudders wrack his spine from the mouth on his hand and not his hand on his cock. It shouldn’t feel so good, but it does. Gareth goes slowly, bobbing his head back and forth, and Tadeas matches the rhythm of his strokes with the mouth on his hand.

His body is warm with pleasure and a little of embarrassment. He moans and whimpers as he strokes himself and as Gareth’s hands and mouth explore the sensitive skin of his hand. It’s erotic like watching lovers intertwine, yet he doesn’t think it should feel so good. Still, Tadeas has never been one to question mundane things like “should.”

Gareth releases his finger from the warmth of his mouth and presses a series of kisses to his palm. Teeth press gently against the fleshy part near his thumb and Tadeas gasps at the sensation. He strokes himself and stares at the brunette head bent over his hand, lavishing it with attention and caresses. The captain looks up at him, eyes dark with lust and Tadeas’s body comes alive, writhing amongst the bed sheets. He’s close, so close. Just one heated gaze feels like hands on his skin and he could come with a word from Gareth.

“Kiss me,” he pants, desperate for the other man’s touch. Gareth crashes against him in a fumble of lips, too overexcited to kiss properly. His back hits the pallet, head cradled in a large hand, and he gasps at the impact. The captain presses his tongue inside and all Tadeas knows for the next moments are Gareth’s strong body looming above his, soft lips and tongue pressing to his own, and his own hand stroking his cock in earnest. Fear passes over him for a moment. Gareth could easily take advantage of him on his back with his legs spread, but his caress never leaves his hand or his mouth.

He whimpers and Gareth swallows the noise with a groan. Fingers curl around his hip, but travel no further, and that warm touch finally tips him. His orgasm crashes through his body in waves of hot pleasure. Gareth pulls back from their kiss and watches his expression from inches away as his face twists and smooths with his release. He strokes himself through it, hips thrusting into the air, until he is spent.

He collapses onto the pallet, limbs loose and out of breath. His head feels hazy and he blinks his eyes open to find Gareth’s darkened gaze inches from his own.

Embarrassment floods him. Regret is heavy against his chest, overriding the floaty feeling of post-orgasm. How could he do _that_ so soon after Vere? And with a _guard_? The way he moaned and shuddered and begged for Gareth’s lips turns his stomach. How could he be so willing?

“I-” he starts but is cut off when lips press to his own. The kiss is gentle and lazy warmth fills his stomach as a tongue strokes against his for a moment before pulling away.

“Don’t let your thoughts ruin what just happened.” Gareth’s eyes are warm with affection and lust. 

Tadeas flushes hot. Gareth is too perceptive. 

“I, for one, enjoyed watching you.” Gareth chuckles. Tadeas becomes aware of the hard length pressed against his thigh, still snug in the captain’s pants.

“Do you want me to…?” he trails off and gestures to the captain’s lap. 

Gareth smiles and shakes his head. “Do you know how to tack a horse?”

“Of course, I’m not an idiot.” 

“Will you go ready Emanon for the day? I will join you shortly.”

Shock floods Tadeas’s body and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. Gareth laughs and presses a kiss to his jawline.

“Are you serious?” Tadeas asks.

“Very.”

The slave pushes up from the bed, wiping his hand of his release on the blanket and pulling on the riding pants he discarded the night before so he could sleep without overheating. Fingers wrap around his wrist and tug him to face Gareth again.

“Will you treat me to one last kiss of your sweet lips?”

“Are you always such a sweet talker with slaves?”

Gareth’s eyes narrow and he tugs Tadeas back onto the pallet with him. “No, I am a sweet talker with _men_ with whom I have an affection.” 

Warmth floods Tadeas’s face but he has no time to think of his embarrassment before lips press against his again. The kiss is languid and he whimpers into it, cock twitching in interest even though he just spent. 

Gareth pulls away a moment later with a lazy smile. “Emanon,” he prompts when Tadeas doesn’t move. The slave nods and pushes to his feet, a little dazed. At the entrance to the tent, he glances back to find brown eyes following his movements, hands not yet having moved to undo his laces. He smiles and throws a wink over his shoulder, leaving the tent to Gareth’s warm laughter.


	5. Chapter 5

Tadeas finds Emanon grazing a few meters from the camp. The sun is starting to peak over the horizon and already men and slaves are working to dissemble the camp and ready the horses. Thoughts of the morning flood Tadeas’s mind as he works to ready the beautiful stallion, but shame does not fill his stomach like he feared. Gareth did not force him and gave him choices instead. 

“Your master is strange,” he murmurs to the horse. Emanon’s bumps his shoulder with his nose and Tadeas can’t help but laugh.

“Am I?” 

He turns to find Gareth smiling at him, approaching from the camp.

“That was fast,” he teases, turning back to tighten the saddle.

The brunette laughs and squeezes his bare shoulder. “I had inspiration.”

Tadeas blushes bright and glares at the smug guard next to him, who only smiles. 

It takes the camp half an hour longer to finish tearing down tents, smothering old fires, and preparing horses. Gareth oversees the process while Tadeas is tasked with fetching water for the horses. It keeps him away from the men and he’s secretly pleased that Gareth considered that when giving him a task.

The pair meets at Emanon as the guards and slaves around them begin to mount horses and climb into carts. Tadeas offers the reigns to Gareth with a smile but the older man shakes his head.

“You’ve ridden before, yes?”

“A little.”

“You’ll lead today. I can teach you anything you don’t remember.”

The slave isn’t sure how to respond as Gareth presses his grip tighter around the reigns where it slackened in his surprise. He turns to the large horse and strokes gently along Emanon’s snout.

“I told you, your master is strange.”

Emanon huffs hot hair against his chest while Gareth laughs beside him. This time, Tadeas lets Gareth help him onto the tall stallion.

***  
Tadeas is out of practice when it comes to commanding a steed but Emanon is patient and attentive to his ever-changing commands. There are a few false starts where Tadeas is unsure of how to control the speed of the horse and ends up all at once nudging him to go faster while gripping the reigns too tight. Gareth chuckles at his back and it isn’t condescending. It’s joyful and the noise makes Tadeas’s chest feel light.

Gareth helps him. He shows him how to spur a horse on with gentle nudges to the ribs and clicks of the tongue. He adjusts the slave’s grip on the reigns, fingers large and warm against Tadeas’s own. He helps him steer around boulders and teaches him how to urge the horse to jump over fallen logs. 

All the while, Gareth maintains a distance between their bodies, even when Tadeas jumps a log or two. He is a warm presence at Tadeas’s back and the slave can feel the heat from his body, but he does not press their bodies together. Gareth wraps one arm loose around his waist to maintain his balance and the touch feels surprisingly comfortable to Tadeas. His hands do not wander, although every so often his fingers grip at the material above Tadeas’s hip and makes Tadeas think of the morning of the grip that finally tipped him into bliss.

“You are not like other men,” he claims and nudges Emanon into a brisk canter. Gareth whoops with laughter behind him as they speed to the top of a hill slightly off the path. Tadeas tugs on the reigns as they crest the hill, eyes alighting on the view of miles of green before them and a winding path to Bazal.

“I’m not like other men, huh?” Gareth’s voice is teasing and Tadeas blushes. He was hoping Gareth would forget his statement with the exhilaration of the galloping horse and the wind whipping against their faces. 

“Is it because I did not bend you over as soon as I saw you?” It’s supposed to be another tease, Tadeas can tell because of the light tone to his voice, but the statement shocks him. His spine stiffens and ice fills his chest. His hands tremble at the reigns and he has to close his eyes to try and ward the images of Vere away from his brain.

Fingers glide up his arm and grip over his hand and he flinches away from the touch.

“I’m sorry,” Gareth murmurs, and he’s too close to Tadeas’s back. Too close, too vulnerable. “I’m so sorry. I did not think-“

“It’s fine.” His voice is tight and he clears his throat to rid himself of the weakness. “It’s true after all.”

Gentle fingers grip his chin and turn his face to look at Gareth. His skin burns and he fights the urge to rub the spot. Gareth looks miserable, frown heavy with regret and eyes shining with guilt.

“I should not have been so flippant about the abuse you have faced. You deserve better from me.”

Tadeas feels a warm tinge settle onto his cheeks and loosen the ice cold in his chest. He doesn’t know how to respond. He’s never been apologized to before. 

He gives Gareth a hesitant smile. “Kiss me?” he asks and bites his lower lip. He isn’t worried about being bold as some slaves would be, but he is worried about rejection. He is soiled, touched by too many men, and unworthy of an esteemed guard’s affection in any form, according to his training. 

Gareth does not seem to mind. He smiles, genuine and lopsided, and presses his lips to the slave’s in gentle, slow kiss. Fingers stroke his cheek and Tadeas reaches his hands up to cup Gareth’s sharp jaw. The kiss is thorough, neither party in a rush to end it, and when Gareth finally pulls back, Tadeas teeters on the horse and smiles, dazed.

“Thank you,” Gareth murmurs and presses a kiss to the young man’s cheek.

Tadeas turns in the saddle, emboldened by the gentle kiss, and nudges Emanon into a frenzied gallop towards the party. He whoops and laughs as Gareth laughs behind him. They speed to the front of the party, wild and joyous, heading straight for Prince Torveld and his speckled stallion. 

Gareth’s hands clench at his hips, urging him to slow down, but Tadeas is feeling reckless. He waits until the grip is bruising, Gareth’s nervousness clear, and tugs hard on the reigns. Emanon skids to a stop, spraying dirt and dust around their feet and the feet of the prince and his pretty slave. 

“Enjoying yourself, Sir Gareth?” the prince asks, amused smile tugging at his lips. Tadeas eyes drift to the slave at his back and find Erasmus smiling brightly. He grins back.

“Naturally, my lord,” Gareth responds, his relaxed tone not betraying the way fear had pressed bruising fingertips into Tadeas only moments ago. His fingers rub absentmindedly over the abused skin and Tadeas smiles at the gentle touch.

He turns with a grin to Gareth. “Again?” The challenge is clear in his voice and Gareth meets him with a confident smirk.

“Waiting on you, sweetheart,” he drawls. Tadeas chokes on a laugh and kicks Emanon into another wild gallop away from the company. Fingers press against his hip and Gareth nudges forward in the saddle.

“You’re brave,” he mutters and presses a kiss beneath his ear. A memory floats to the front of Tadeas’s mind: _I value bravery and a sharp mind._


	6. Chapter 6

The air of the camp is chilly but the warmth of the fire wards it away. Tadeas sits on the ground near a smaller fire away from the large one in the main circle of the camp, a plate of food in his lap and one by his side. There are a few slaves around the fire but only one guard, who seems more interested in eating than leering at slaves.

Tadeas picks at his food, not really eating, as he waits for Gareth to finish his duties for the evening. He stares into the flickering flames as his mind wanders from his plate to the day’s events. Gareth allowed him to lead the horse the entire day, which was all at once fun and tiring. His leg muscles are sore but it is a small price to pay for the exhilaration of galloping and jumping. Their conversation was easy and Tadeas cannot remember ever laughing so much. As the day progressed, the captain scooted closer in the saddle until their bodies pressed together. It was comfortable and Tadeas’s skin didn’t itch, even as their bodies rocked gently with the sloping steps of Emanon.

He likes Gareth. The man is witty and kind and doesn’t treat him like used wares, although he is mindful of his past. Warm hope tugs at his stomach but he tries to push it away. He likes Gareth but captains don’t have the salary to afford a pleasure slave.

The sound of boots wading through the tall grass pulls him out of his thoughts. A hand rests on top of his head as the owner of the boots comes to stand beside him.

“Is that for me?” Gareth asks, pleased smile evident in his voice even if Tadeas didn’t look up to see it. He nods and offers the plate of food to the man as Gareth sits beside him with a groan.

“Long day?”

“Only when I was away from you.” Gareth winks and Tadeas flushes at the casual flirtation. Hope flickers in his chest again and it’s harder to smother it with the reason for the hope sitting close enough to him that their knees touch and their arms brush.

They eat in silence, companionable and easy. The slave stares at his plate, fingers fiddling with a small piece of bread. In Akeilos, a slave shows honor and loyalty to their master by serving them. Gareth has not asked him for any service but Tadeas’s training urges him to regardless. He wants to fight it, but the instinct to try and please Gareth tugs at him and he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to serve the strong man beside him.

He blushes lightly and offers the bread to Gareth without a word. The captain’s eyes light up with amusement and Tadeas glares at him, daring him to say one word to rebuke his training. He knows Gareth doesn’t demand his submission but for once in his life he desires to submit.

Soft lips pull the bread from his fingers, brushing against his fingertips in a gentle reminder of the morning. Pleasure warms Tadeas’s stomach. He stares, outstretched hand frozen in the air, as Gareth swallows and a crooked smile stretches his lips. He leans forward and presses his lips to the slave’s ear.

“You make me desire things I never saw the appeal of. You are beautiful when you choose to serve.” Gareth presses a cool kiss to his burning cheek before leaning back to smile fondly at him. He ducks his head, eyes downcast to the almost empty plate in his lap. His stomach churns with pleasure and worry. He chews his lips as he considers his next words but the steady presence of Gareth gives him confidence.

“I-I want to serve you,” he says into his plate. The words are bold for a slave who is not supposed to want anything, especially a specific master, but he knows Gareth will not mind. “I have never wanted that.”

Fingertips brush over his cheekbone and he flicks his eyes up. It’s hard to make eye contact with the intense stare leveled at him but he pushes down the instinct to look away. Embarrassment floods him but Gareth only smiles bright, affection clear in his expression.

“You please me,” he says simply and the words make Tadeas’s chest all at once tighten and expand. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to his captain’s cheek, unsure how to express his gratitude for such a simple statement that affects him so much. He nuzzles his way into the man’s embrace, pressing his forehead into Gareth’s neck and his body closer to the man’s. An arm loops easily around his back, stroking along his waist and hip.

“Take me to bed?” he mutters into the curve of Gareth’s neck and can feel the man stiffen a little in surprise. He’s worried that he asked too much, but he does not want to miss the opportunity of a night with someone he chose before he is bought by a noble of Patras.

“Of course.” Gareth presses a gentle kiss to his hair line.

***  
The pair stumbles into the tent, a frenzy of meeting mouths and wandering hands. Gareth guides Tadeas backwards towards the pallet with firm hands on his hips. The sturdy grip and the control Gareth exudes over him makes Tadeas tremble as he goes willingly where his captain steers. He has never yearned for a master to handle him with strength and he spent his time in Vere fighting such actions. But Gareth does not demand obedience, nor expect submission. He exudes effortless strength and Tadeas cannot help but respond.

They reach the pallet and Tadeas scrambles on to it, lying on his back and spreading his legs to invite the older man into the curve of them, a position he was unwilling to take before a day of easy banter and flirting. He is breathless and flushed already and they have only just begun. 

Gareth smiles from the edge of the pallet, eyes dark as he drinks in the sight of Tadeas open and willing.

“I will not take you,” he says, discarding his tunic in a swift motion.

The words sting and Tadeas locks his knees together. Shame fills him and he gnaws his bottom lip, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing he was anywhere else. He read Gareth all wrong. Of course, the man wouldn’t desire him after he had been defiled by so many.

Fingers brush over his bare knees and he flinches hard. “Don’t-” His eyes fly open to see Gareth’s concerned face hovering over him.

“You misunderstand. I desire you and I will lay with you tonight.” The words make Tadeas’s heart thump against his chest, even as shame still turns his insides. “I just meant I will not enter you.”

“Why not?” He wishes he didn’t sound so pathetic, so desperate.

Gareth’s smile is soft and he cups Tadeas’s cheek with gentle fingers. “You are not ready and you are not mine. Not yet.”

The slave considers his words, turning them over in his head. _Not yet_ weighs heavily on his mind, but he pushes it away quickly. He is trained for nobility and a simple guard cannot afford to buy him, captain salary or not. He does not wish to think on it. As Gareth looms over him, patient for his response, Tadeas vows to enjoy this night and whatever he can have with Gareth before he is given to an unknown noble.

“Then what shall we do?” He reaches out to cup the gentle captain’s cheek and smiles when Gareth nuzzles into his palm.

“I wish to use my mouth.” 

The words splash heat through Tadeas and the slave lets out a shuddering breath.

“Yes, yes please,” he murmurs as lips press against his in a thorough kiss. Fingers catch at the fabric of his tunic and peel it away until he is nude amongst the sheets and pillows. Gareth breaks their kiss then and leans back onto his heels.

His captain’s heated gaze roams over his body and the weight of it is like a caress to his skin. The young man curls his shoulders in and crosses his arms over his front, trying to shield himself. Fingers curl around his wrists and brown eyes stare into his face, imploring.

“Please, allow me to gaze upon you. I want to remember this night.”

Tadeas flushes hotter at that and his body trembles. “You embarrass me.”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re gorgeous.”

Warm fondness fills the slave and he allows Gareth to position his wrists on either side of his head and push his knees farther apart, leaving him open to Gareth’s viewing. Sharp eyes take in every inch, moving over his skin in small increments as if drinking every minute detail. He studies the older man’s face, hungry and pleased, as he is being watched. Gareth is slender but strong, sinewy muscle bulging beneath his alabaster skin. Tadeas smiles as he realizes how different they are: Tadeas is slim and tan while Gareth is muscle and cream.

A hand settles on his chest and a calloused thumb rubs a sensitive nipple absentmindedly as Gareth still stares. Tadeas twitches against the pallet and shudders as pleasure courses through that small point of contact.

“Sensitive,” Gareth mutters, eyes trained on the small circles his thumb makes over the pebbled nipple. Tadeas whimpers and bites his lip against more embarrassing noises. He has never been caressed or showered with attention and the small touch makes pleasure alight his body.

“Gareth, no teasing,” he pants.

The older man tips forward, lips searing a path up his neck before teeth nip at the lobe of his ear. Tadeas gasps at the sensation and the movement causes his cock to rub against Gareth’s coarse pants. 

“I will make you delirious with pleasure before you release tonight.”

“Why?” Gareth chuckles at the suspicion in his voice. No one has ever seen to his pleasure.

“Because I desire to.” The older man nudges his hips forward and the hard bulge beneath rough fabric presses against the sensitive skin of Tadeas’s balls. He moans and rubs down without thought to his wanton actions, making Gareth groan and rut forward.

They are a loop of pleasure for a moment. Tadeas’s hips move and make Gareth groan, which in turn makes him thrust forward harder. The pleasure spurs Tadeas to moan and press down harder as well until they are both rutting against the other, seeking pleasure and friction. 

Fingers grip hard at Tadeas’s hips, stopping their motions and bruising along his skin. 

“I will not spill in these pants,” Gareth declares, eyes dark with desire that makes Tadeas want to thrust against him again. “I wish to spill on you.”

Tadeas never saw the appeal of sticky liquid on his skin, but he moans at the idea and thrashes his head against the pillow. “Please Gareth, I will go insane if you do not touch me soon.”

Gareth needs no further encouragement. He slides down the slave’s body, trailing kisses and nipping teeth as he goes. He pauses to tease small, brown nipples and Tadeas practically vibrates against the sheets, jerking his hips up into the air. His chest is sensitive, having never been touched before, and the contrast of soft lips and sharp teeth makes pleasure bloom across his nipples. He cups Gareth’s head in his hand, trying to encourage him with gentle pressure.

The older man doesn’t seem to mind. He keeps his head ducked, lips and teeth tugging at one nipple as his fingers circle and pluck at the other. The sensations are overwhelming and Tadeas can do nothing more than pant and shudder as Gareth teases each nipple with a focus Tadeas has never seen the likes of before. He laps at one nipple and rolls the other between sword-roughened fingertips before switching to give each one the same treatment. He switches back and forth again and again until Tadeas’s cock throbs with heat. He has never had his pleasure seen to with such prolonged focus before.

Gareth nips sharply at one nipple and chuckles dark and low when Tadeas whines and squirms.

“Hurts,” he murmurs, but does nothing to push Gareth away. He’s not sure how much time has passed since Gareth first turned his affection to his chest. His nipples are peaked and swollen with the attention Gareth has lavished on them. Every new touch sends sharp pleasure through his chest that makes him hiss and squirm. Gareth groans and nuzzles his face in between his sore nipples.

“You’re so responsive. I could spend hours here,” he says and presses a gentle kiss to a puffy nipple. Tadeas jerks and whimpers. The pleasure-pain makes his cock twitch unbearably.

“I’d prefer you spend hours elsewhere.”

Gareth flashes him a wolfish grin. “As you wish.”

In the next moment, Gareth nudges his legs further apart with broad shoulders so he can settle between them. The position makes Tadeas feel exposed and desired all at once. Gareth’s mouth is inches from his weeping erection and his eyes are looking up at him, cloudy with lust. His fingers wrap around the base of Tadeas’s cock and squeeze lightly.

“I wish I had a glass so you could see your expression right now.”

Tadeas can feel the heat of a blush burn across his cheek bones. He wiggles his hips, trying to get Gareth’s attention where he really wants it, but the man persists in watching his face with a gentle smile. 

“Well, I wish you’d leave teasing already,” he snaps and tugs at the captain’s hair.

Gareth barks a laugh and nips sharply at the top of his thigh. “My impatient little one.”

Tadeas opens his mouth to argue against the pet name but chokes out a loud groan as Gareth swallows down his entire length. His mouth is hot and wet and overwhelming. Tadeas tries to thrust up without thought but strong hands hold his hips still. The older man bobs his head up and down the length of his cock and Tadeas has to close his eyes against the image in hopes that he will last longer.

He is fighting a losing battle. Gareth’s mouth is talented. He sucks with the perfect amount of pressure and his tongue teases along the bottom of his cock when his head is buried fully in Tadeas’s lap. On the upstroke, he flicks and swirls his tongue around the sensitive head of his cock, sweeping away the liquid that drips with his pleasure. 

Tadeas writhes on the pallet, unable to move against the strong grip and finding pleasure in being pinned so effortlessly. He never liked being pinned before but with Gareth it is an addition to the sensation, not a trap for his body. He knows that even now, as he jerks and moans and grips at the pallet, he could say “no” and Gareth would honor his request.

“Close,” he mutters. 

Gareth hums and the action vibrates his throat around Tadeas’s cock. He moans and Gareth swallows around him, fluttering his tongue along his cock and keeping his nose pressed against Tadeas’s curls. The heat and pressure from all sides is too much. Pleasure bursts along his skin and his back warms with his release. He moans and spills into Gareth’s mouth, back arching and hips trying to thrust to no avail.

He pants as the hazy feeling of orgasm settles over him. He feels lazy, content to lay amongst the pallet and allow Gareth to find his pleasure however he wants. He considers turning over and pushing his backside up, sure the captain will want as all men want, but he doesn’t have the energy. 

There’s a rustle below and he glances down to find Gareth’s eyes on him, dark with lust. His pants are unlaced and pushed down to his thighs, revealing his long cock. Gareth’s erection is purple at the head with his held off pleasure and his hand grips it tight as he strokes up and down. His hips rock forward in small thrusts into his own hand.

Tadeas swallows at the image and feels his cock give a tired twitch against his thigh, sticky with come and spit. He reaches down and runs gentle fingertips against the leaking head of Gareth’s cock. The older man groans and jerks away.

“Just let me,” he murmurs and resumes stroking himself.

“I’m not a delicate flower.” Tadeas glares and pushes up on his elbow to get closer to Gareth so he can wrap his fingers around the man’s length.

Gareth grips his wrist, stopping his movements and making him look up. He curls his lip to snap something petulant but Gareth’s expression is one of concern.

“I didn’t mean- “

“I know,” he cuts Gareth off. “Now, move up here so I can stroke you and you can come on my chest like you said you wanted.”

Gareth groans and kicks off his pants in a quick movement. With haste, he straddles Tadeas’s hips, keeping his weight off the young man’s sensitive cock, and Tadeas takes him in hand, stroking his length with the same steady rhythm Gareth was using before. The older man groans and rocks his hips forward.

“Better?” Tadeas asks, teasing.

Gareth answers with a choked-out moan as Tadeas flicks his wrist at the head. He smirks and watches Gareth’s face as he continues to stroke him, varying speed and pressure. His cock is warm and heavy in his hand, a respectable length and thick. Tadeas is glad for a moment he didn’t roll over and offer up his hole. It’ll hurt no matter how slowly Gareth goes and he doesn’t want to taint his opinion of the captain with unbidden memories of Vere.

Gareth groans and the noise reigns in Tadeas’s wandering thoughts. The older man rocks fully into his hand now, an imitation of the act Tadeas secretly desires. He groans and his thighs tremble with the exertion of holding himself above Tadeas. Tadeas squeezes his hand a little tighter and grins when Gareth’s hips stutter and he moans. His face scrunches up with his pleasure and hot liquid splashes onto Tadeas’s chest and collarbone. He strokes Gareth through it until every drop is spent and Gareth collapses forward.

He’s boxed in and the feeling of the strong body looming over him makes his chest tight. He wishes he could banish the feeling and tries to distract himself by leaning up and pressing a gentle kiss to Gareth’s lips. Gareth is nice. Gareth won’t hurt him.

Brown eyes crack open at the kiss and Gareth’s smile stretches into something lazy and content. 

“Better,” he rumbles and Tadeas laughs, having forgotten the unanswered question. His laugh must be a little too high, a little too loud because Gareth’s eyes narrow and he rolls off him in the next moment to fetch a cloth.

The damp cloth is gentle as it wipes away the mess from his chest and in between his thighs. He hisses when it rubs over his still sore nipples and Gareth winces in sympathy. 

“I’m sorry, Tadeas. I was a little too enthusiastic.” Tadeas looks down at his chest, still swollen and a little red, and blushes at the memory of how he writhed and whimpered at the attention Gareth laved on his nipples.

“S’ok,” he murmurs, brushing fingers through chestnut curls. Gareth presses a kiss to the palm of his hand.

Fatigue washes over Tadeas, making his limbs feel heavy and his head full of cotton. The tumble with Gareth was enjoyable, but Tadeas still had to spend some time pushing away thoughts of Vere. His skin doesn’t itch with any unbidden touch like it did in days prior so Tadeas muses he must be getting better in some capacity.

Gareth finishes wiping at his cock with gentle strokes and tosses the cloth off the edge of the makeshift bed. He lays down beside Tadeas and wraps his arms around the slighter man, nuzzling his face into the curve of a slim shoulder. Tadeas stiffens.

“What are you doing?” Gareth’s arms are heavy around his waist and he feels confined, trapped.

“Have you never cuddled after?”

Tadeas shakes his head and squirms. He’s never cuddled after because he’s always gotten away as quickly as he could. Gareth loosens his hold, allowing Tadeas to put some distance between them, but grips his hip when Tadeas tries to scoot to the other end of the pallet.

“Please, allow me this touch,” he says softly. His eyes are imploring, gentle, and Tadeas knows he can move away fully and Gareth would allow him to, but he doesn’t want to see the twinge of hurt in the older man’s eyes if he does. The arm feels a little lighter where it is slung across his waist and Tadeas concedes. He can give Gareth this, this small comfort, if it means he will keep looking at Tadeas with adoration.

He nods and the smile Gareth flashes at him is brilliant. Gareth presses a soft kiss to his temple, murmurs his gratitude, then shifts back to allow inches of space to settle between their bodies. Tadeas smiles, intertwines his fingers with the hand loose on his hip, and ignores the happy glint in Gareth’s eyes in favor of sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

The road to Bazal stretches before them. Tadeas is at the reigns again, Gareth a sturdy presence at his back. Emanon moves at a steady walk ahead of the group of travelers so that Gareth can ensure the path is clear of any obstacle that would make it difficult for the carts to move. 

The morning was quiet, easy. Tadeas woke to a warm embrace, having moved closer to Gareth during the night, but the older man let him inch away without trying to hold him close. They exchanged soft kisses before leaving the tent for the day and Gareth kept his hands loose on Tadeas’s body as if he could tell the slave needed the distance. Even now, he maintains a few comfortable inches between their bodies, not leaning forward in the saddle and pressing against Tadeas’s back like the day before.

Tadeas is grateful for the reprieve. He likes Gareth a lot. The man has no qualms about his mouth or his actions, even when those actions keep the captain at a distance. He is incredibly patient, sometimes too patient, but Tadeas would rather be the one to push himself past obstacles than have the man force him past them. 

Tadeas sighs and fiddles with the reigns, turning the slack leather over in his hands. With each step Bazal gets closer and the tightness in his chest thickens. Tadeas wants nothing more than to stretch their travel a few more days. He almost wishes for a wagon wheel to break but he knows that will only cause trouble for Gareth.

“Are you alright?” Gareth asks softly from behind him. His fingers brush up the side of his waist, the first touch he’s bestowed upon the slave since they left their tent, and Tadeas stiffens under the gentle caress, hoping Gareth doesn’t notice.

With Tadeas’s luck, he notices. Gareth takes the reigns, pulls Emanon to a stop, then nudges at Tadeas’s shoulder until the younger man half turns in his seat. He won’t look up at Gareth, even though the man’s gaze is heavy with the expectation for him to do so.

“Tadeas?”

“What?” he snarls. 

“Does your chest hurt?”

“No.” He fights down a blush at the question. His chest is sensitive and the soft fabric of the chiton chafes against it every so often in a teasing reminder of the night before. But sore nipples are the least of his concerns.

“What is troubling you?” Gareth asks, worry clear in his voice. Tadeas’s chest tightens with a new anxiety now, overriding the worry of getting close to Bazal. He feels trapped. He doesn’t want to have this conversation but there’s nowhere to go. He knows Gareth will listen to him and share the burden of his worries but that won’t help. He would only succeed in burdening Gareth as well, cutting short the time they could enjoy together on their last day.

Fingers brush across his cheek bone and he forces himself not to react, not to knock the hand away and rub at the itch the touch has left behind.

“Your face is a storm of troubles. Tell me.”

“Just because I’m a slave doesn’t mean I have to answer your questions.”

Strong fingers grip his chin and force him to look up into concerned brown eyes. He glares, hot anger rushing down his spine, but Gareth speaks before he can snap something else to convince the man to leave him alone.

“Have I ever once treated you like a slave?”

 _No, that’s the problem. You’ve given me a taste of what I cannot have._ He stays silent and glowers at the man instead of answering.

“Do you regret last night?”

 _No, never._ The itch blooms on his skin, moving from the points on his cheek and jaw to cover his entire body. He wants to get away, to escape, to put distance between himself and the caring gaze and gentle hands of the man behind him. But Gareth is stubborn and won’t stop until he knows the answer.

“Do you?” the captain prompts.

“Yes,” he growls and knocks the hand from his chin. He turns in the saddle and kicks Emanon forward into a brisk trot to gain the distance they’ve lost by stopping. Gareth is silent at his back and Tadeas wishes that he would yell, or hit him, or cast him from the horse, but he does nothing. The regret that swam in his gaze makes Tadeas’s chest feel heavy with ice and he spurs the horse faster, wishing he could put distance between himself and Gareth.

***  
They ride in silence for an hour, the air around them tense with unspoken words, anxiety, and regret. Gareth does not touch him, not even to steady himself as Tadeas varies the speed of Emanon into brisk gallops and jumps. He is silent and the slave can only imagine the thoughts racing through his quick mind.

He wishes he could reverse time and retract what he said. He doesn’t regret the night before, he only regrets that it is the only night of its kind. In trying to put distance between his heart and the man behind him, he successfully ruined the comradery with the only person who has shown him kindness since Vere. Now, he will have to face his future in Bazal without a confidant at his side. The anxiety hangs on his mind like a heavy blanket he cannot cast off.

Hands grip the reigns above his and snap the leather against Emanon’s neck, making the horse quicken its pace.

“Hey!” 

“Hush,” Gareth mutters. The fierce command has Tadeas dropping the reigns and holding onto the horn of the saddle to steady himself instead. Gareth guides the horse towards the company and the realization that Tadeas will get what he originally wanted—distance from Gareth as he rides in a cart—churns his stomach instead of making him feel relief like he thought it would.

Only, Gareth does not halt the procession to make Tadeas join the cart slaves. He trots next to Torveld and names another guard to take up the scouting duty, citing “nature calls” as his need for a break. Before Tadeas can question the captain’s actions, the older man steers Emanon into the woods away from eyes of the company.

They dismount in silence but Gareth makes no move to find privacy amongst the trees. Instead, he faces Tadeas, eyes determined and mouth set into a deep frown.

“Do you really regret last night?”

That isn’t what Tadeas was expecting. He was expecting to be yelled at or struck or any number of punishments Gareth could inflict away from prying eyes. He wasn’t expecting to face the doubt in Gareth’s eyes, hidden behind the unwavering tone in his voice. Gareth is supposed to be strong and confident but a few words from Tadeas have made him insecure. Guilt is heavy in his stomach and he takes an abrupt half-step towards the captain, hand outstretched, before he realizes what he’s doing.

He shakes his head and wraps his arms around his stomach. Tears prick at his eyes as guilt and fear roll his stomach in complicated twists and turns. Gareth was sweet to him and he ruined that. He doesn’t deserve to touch the captain now, no matter how much he wants to.

Strong arms wrap around his body and pull him forward into the curve of Gareth’s neck and chest. 

“Shhh,” Gareth murmurs against his hair, hand rubbing gently up and down his back. He doesn’t cry. He won’t cry, having shed too many tears over Vere and his own predicament, but he leans forward and relaxes into the comforting embrace, allowing the path of Gareth’s hands to rub away his worries until they are a gentle nudging at his mind instead of a tumultuous storm.

“Tell me what is truly worrying you,” Gareth says quietly moments later, once Tadeas has stopped holding himself so tensely in the circle of his arms.

“I don’t want to go to Bazal.”

“Why?”

Tadeas shakes his head and tries to burrow deeper into the embrace, but Gareth pushes him back and holds him at arm’s length.

“I cannot help you if I do not know. Why?” he asks again, hands gripping tight onto the slave’s bare shoulders.

The worries pour from Tadeas’s mouth without his permission. He babbles about masters and strangers and cruelty and expectations and punishments and being sent away. He tries to stop the wave of anxieties, but they all come out, revealing too much, making him vulnerable to the fierce captain in front of him. He can’t look at him. He can’t see the pity there. Not Gareth. Not-

Gareth clears his throat and his gaze is a weight on Tadeas, demanding he look up. He raises his eyes slowly, scared of what he will find in the older man’s expression after his confession, and finds only a gentle half-smile.

“Is that all?” Gareth asks with a lazy drawl.

The urge to strike out and slap the infuriating man fills Tadeas with heat but Gareth yanks him forward into a tight embrace before he can react. He stumbles forward and slams into Gareth’s chest with a punched-out breath. He squirms and struggles, trying to create distance between their bodies as his skin begins to itch. He can’t have this and he doesn’t want to tease himself.

“I’m going to ask the king for you.”

The fight leaves him at once, freezing his body in the circle of strong arms. 

“What?” Tadeas pushes back to look at him and Gareth lets him go, arms loose around his waist instead of crushing like before.

“I said, I’m going to ask the king for you.” 

Tadeas chews the inside of his cheek, considering the declaration. He wants to believe Gareth. He wants to push aside all his fears, accept the information, and celebrate by kissing him against a tree, but logic nudges at the edge of his mind and keeps him from giving over the false hope.

“I may be defiled,” Gareth stiffens and opens his mouth to speak, but Tadeas barrels forward, “but palace slaves are still expensive. A captain of the guard cannot afford me.” He winces as he says it, worried he’ll offend the older man.

“You’re not defiled. You’re perfect.”

“You’re mad.”

Gareth laughs. “Perhaps.” He cards gentle fingers through the hair at the nape of Tadeas’s neck. “Will you allow this mad man to ask for you?”

Shock zips through him at the question. Gareth does not need his permission. No one has ever asked for his permission before taking him. Thoughts of the night before float across his mind: Gareth’s gentle requests, strong hands, and eager mouth, always aware of pushing Tadeas too far.

“This slave lives to serve,” he says, parroting a phrase from his training without thought.

Gareth’s brows furrow and he steps closer, crowding into Tadeas’s space until the slave has to tilt his head back to look up at the taller man. A large hand cups the back of his neck, thumb brushing behind the curve of his ear as Gareth leans down to hover inches from his face.

“Will you allow me to ask for you?” he says again. Tadeas shudders and nods frantically, trying to push himself further into the curve of Gareth’s body. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, please Gareth, yes.” His babbling is cut off by the press of Gareth’s lips to his own. The captain’s hands grip at his neck and hip and pull his slight body tight against the strong one before him. He moans softly into the kiss and wraps his arms around broad shoulders, content to stand and kiss the man for hours.

Gareth pulls back to press a chaste kiss to each of his cheeks but stays close so their bodies still press together from chest to thigh.

“Do not worry about the details. I will ask for you and I will have you.” He presses a kiss to the young man’s forehead. “Worry no longer about your future in Bazal. I will take care of you.”

They mount Emanon together. This time, Tadeas leans back in the saddle until Gareth’s thighs and chest cradle the length of his body. His limbs feel heavy, boneless, and his eyes tired. He can’t help but shift backwards until he feels secure against the solid form behind him. He tucks his forehead into Gareth’s neck and closes his eyes. Gareth chuckles and eases the reigns out of his hands. 

“Relax,” he mutters against Tadeas’s forehead, placing a gentle kiss along his brow. “Sleep if you can. I know worry can be tiring.” Tadeas isn’t sure how but Gareth manages to steer Emanon back to the group one-handed, the other arm looped around his waist, holding him steady enough to doze.


	8. Chapter 8

Every step towards the city fills the young man’s stomach with bubbling trepidation but Gareth seems to be aware of his ever-changing mood, making jokes and stroking him with soothing caresses whenever he starts to tense. It works and they reach Bazal without incident as the sun descends and splashes the sky in a swirl of orange, pink, and yellow.

The city reminds him of Vere and that thought sends an unbidden shiver down his spine. The stone walls that surround the palace are thick and foreboding, and the castle looms, cast in dark shadows from the sun behind. 

The travelers pass through the gate and the road opens into a bright square, lined with people of all ages. The crowd cheers and waves, throwing flowers into the air and at the feet of the travelers. The palace may look terrifying, but the people are dressed like Akeilons and their easy smiles and ecstatic waving sends a thrill of hope through Tadeas. If the people are that happy to welcome Prince Torveld after a few week journey, maybe Patras isn’t as bad as Vere. Tadeas can’t imagine the people of Vere would go to such lengths to welcome the Regent.

He relaxes and turns back to Gareth. “Is it always like this?” he asks over the roar of the crowd as Torveld passes through the gate behind them.

Gareth grins. “Prince Torveld is a great man. The people love him.”

Something purple and blue flashes in the corner of his eye, but Gareth snatches it out of midair before it can go flying between them. A crown of flowers. Gareth’s grin widens and he dumps the crown onto Tadeas’s head. Tadeas glares but doesn’t move to remove it, which just makes the older man laugh. The slave turns back around, arms crossed and petulant, before the smile that twitches at his lips can give him away. 

The people continue to throw flowers and wave and Tadeas notices women and men alike showering his companion with sultry looks, flirtatious smiles, and almost beckoning waves. He scoots back in the saddle, effectively pushing his backside against the captain’s lap. Gareth grunts, his arm tightens around Tadeas’s waist, and his hips nudge forward as much as the saddle will allow. Tadeas’s body warms with his captain’s reaction instead of feeling itchy and trapped.

“I thought I should remind you who you belong to,” he says with a wink. Gareth’s eyes are molten with lust and he pulls the slave firmer against his body so Tadeas can feel him starting to stir in his pants.

“I belong to you, huh?” he growls into Tadeas’s ear and the young man blushes hot, realizing the weight of what he just said. Stupid really, throwing around words of possession and ownership when in reality he can own nothing and do nothing but be owned. 

Gareth must feel him tense because he presses a quick kiss to his temple and nuzzles his face into the slave’s neck. “I’m yours,” he declares, breath warm against Tadeas’s skin, “and you will be mine, I swear it.”

Tadeas turns his head to nuzzle into the side of Gareth’s. They stay like that as they enter the inner courtyard, Gareth with his chin hooked onto Tadeas’s shoulder, face turned into his neck, while Tadeas presses his own forehead to Gareth’s temple. People still direct lustful looks at Gareth, but he pays them no attention, wrapped up fully in the lithe man before him.

***  
The first few hours in Bazal are a flurry of activity. Gareth and Torveld are whisked away to report to the king, while the slaves are sent to the baths to wash after the long journey. Tadeas feels out of place amongst the slaves, docile and quiet as they are instructed to strip and bathe. He is so used to the easy banter and loud joking with Gareth after only a few days and his chest aches without it. After the bath, the slaves are escorted to sleeping quarters where they lounge amongst fluffy pillows and eat fruit that has already been laid out for them. 

It only takes a few moments for Tadeas to go mad. The slaves are quiet and elegant as they eat and talk about trivial things like the satin of the pillows and the ripeness of the grapes. He tries to speak to a few slaves but after only one or two jokes that make them stiffen and blush, he remembers the issues he was having on the ship, the cruel reality of being different. He snatches a bowl of berries from the table and sequesters himself into a corner, glowering down at the bowl instead of eating its contents.

Hours of tittering laughs and thoughtless talk grate on Tadeas’s mind. He tries to tune them out, but every once in a while, the noise filters back in. He wants to snap but he knows that will only result in hurt looks that are more annoying than the laughter.

There is a knock on the door and Tadeas cannot help but hope that it is Gareth with news of ownership coming to fetch him from the mindless herd of slaves. It’s not that he necessarily wants to be owned, but if he has to, he would rather be owned by a man who sees the farce of slavery and submission as much as he does. 

A young servant boy steps into the room, eyes downturned in respect to the half-naked state of most slaves, and hands a written missive to Erasmus.

“He wants me to come now?” the pretty, blonde slave asks in his light voice.

“Yes, I’m supposed to escort you to Prince Torveld’s rooms.” 

Erasmus smiles, folds the paper with reverent fingers, and follows the servant out the door. Tadeas glowers at the half-empty bowl again, jealousy ugly and sharp in his chest. An idea jumps to the front of his mind and he’s out of the room before he can rethink his actions, the sound of the bowl wobbling on the ground cut off by the door closing behind him.

The hallways are long and narrow in this part of the castle, with small alcoves for floor to ceiling windows. Tadeas follows the lyrical voices as they move down the hallway towards the right. Surely Gareth’s room will be near Torveld’s. A prince would need his captain by his side if another country laid siege to the palace. He stays his distance through the first few twists and turns, sure to keep his feet light on the stone floor in order to not call the pair’s attention to his lurking presence.

After a few hallways, he puts his plan into action.

“Excuse me!” he calls, and jogs up to the stopped pair. “Can you show me to Captain Gareth’s chambers?” The servant looks confused but Tadeas barrels forward. “He’s requested me tonight. Another servant delivered the message after you left and said to find you to show me the rooms because she was too busy.”

The servant boy contemplates his words and Tadeas tries not to shift back and forth on his feet. Erasmus smiles at him, eyes glinting with amusement, and Tadeas fights not to bristle and snap at him. 

“Of course,” the boy says finally, “this way.” He turns to lead the pair of slaves further along the hallway. Tadeas moves to follow but a hand grips above his elbow and tugs him back to face the blonde slave.

“What?” he hisses under his breath, trying to keep the servant from turning around.

“I’m happy for you, that’s all.” The bright smile makes Tadeas roll his eyes and yank his arm out of Erasmus’s grip.

“Me too,” he says, then jogs to catch up to the servant before Erasmus can respond.

***   
Gareth’s room is exactly what Tadeas expects of the man: functional and only slightly indulgent. It is spacious, as far as the rooms of non-royalty go, and even has an antechamber before the bedchamber. Tadeas doesn’t wander into the archway of the bedchamber, although he can see the large wooden frame and green blanket. He takes in the details of the antechamber instead: a table in the corner with a map of the palace on top, shelves lined with worn books and weapons in need of repairing, and two plush chairs that face each other in the center of the room. 

Now that he is in the room, he feels out of place. He knows he is taking liberties by coming into Gareth’s private chambers without his permission and tendrils of dread pluck at his stomach, worried he is overstepping in a way Gareth will not forgive. He considers going back to the slave quarters but cannot remember how to get back. He even looks at the map to see if it would help, but everything is labeled in a short hand that probably makes sense only to Gareth in case wandering eyes see it. His fingertips flick at the edge of the map, turning the corner up and down, up and down, up and down in a fit of nerves.

“Get a hold of yourself,” Tadeas mutters aloud. “He likes you and he admires boldness.”

Still, he thinks, there is a limit to his boldness. He crosses the room to one of the plush chairs and curls onto the cushion, pulling his legs underneath him and looping his arms across his stomach. It’s late and although he wishes he could curl into Gareth’s bed which is undoubtedly more comfortable, he doesn’t want to push his luck more than he already is. He doesn’t want to give Gareth a reason not to ask for him.

He shifts further into the cushion and closes his eyes, willing the anxieties away so he can find some peace. Slowly his mind quiets and he sleeps.

***  
 _Darkness. Rough hands on his body. Fear so thick it swells in his throat. He can’t escape. A hand grips his bare shoulder, fingers digging into the skin, and shakes. He swings his fist hard and connects with a tight belly. The guard grunts but grabs his wrist before he can pull back and swing again. He struggles, trying to kick off the lethargy of sleep and the man before him at the same time. He won’t be taken without a fight. Never again._

“Tadeas, Tadeas!” the voice calls his name, distorted as if he is underwater. He recognizes that voice. His eyes fly open and take in Gareth, one hand grasping his wrist and the other clutching at his own stomach. The instinct to fight leaves him at once, making him slouch back against the cushion. His heart beats out a staccato rhythm against his chest as he tries to fight the panic out of his breathing.

“You scared me,” he mutters towards the ceiling, unable to face the pain he put on Gareth’s face. Surely, this is the boundary that Gareth will refuse to let him trample. Dread rolls his stomach. He will be sent back to the slave quarters to await purchase; he is certain of it.

Fingers smooth over his cheek and he flinches away. He does not deserve gentle handling. To indulge will only make it worse when he is cast aside. Gareth grasps his shoulder instead and the warmth of the steady grip calms him.

“Are you alright?” Gareth actually sounds worried, like the well-being of the slave who punched him is important.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“You were having a nightmare.”

He shrugs and pulls his knees up to his chest, staring at his toes instead of at the man standing before him.

Gareth kneels, forcing his face into Tadeas’s line of vision. He looks concerned, truly concerned, when he should look infuriated. Tadeas doesn’t agree with ranking and submission but even he knows a slave shouldn’t punch a captain of the guard. It would be different if Gareth was trying to hurt him. Tadeas has no qualms about defending himself—a slew of bruised Veretians could stand as proof—but Gareth had only ever been sweet to him.

“Are you alright?” he asks again. The slave nods but doesn’t say anything. Gareth grasps both of his hands and presses a kiss to the back of each one. He wants to squirm away but the fond look in Gareth’s eyes stills him.

“I’m not mad at you.” Relief washes through Tadeas and his lips twitch in a tentative smile. Gareth smiles softly and nudges at the younger man’s knees, still locked tight against his chest. Tadeas allows the captain to guide first one foot and then the other to the ground with attentive care and kisses laid upon each ankle and knee. Gareth spreads his thighs with gentle fingers and settles between them, pressing his chest the seat cushion and grasping Tadea’s hands again. A small thrill runs through the slave at how effortlessly his body submitted to Gareth’s arrangement without fear.

“I was so pleased to walk in and find you already in my rooms,” Gareth says against his wrist, laying gentle kisses along his forearms and hands as he talks. “Imagine my surprise when I sent a servant to fetch you only to have him tell me you were already here.

“Brave.” The phrase is whispered fondly against the crook of his elbow and Tadeas jumps at the feeling of warm breath against his sensitive skin. 

Tadeas grins, cheeky and emboldened by the tingles in his arms. “I live to serve,” he teases and Gareth barks a laugh.

“I must ask: you are bold enough to break into my room but not to sleep in my bed?”

“I didn’t want to presume.” To explain more would be too revealing but the way Gareth’s eyes roam over his expression makes him think the captain can see through him anyway.

“Please, feel free to presume.” He presses a kiss to the inside of Tadeas’s palm. “After all, I’ve had your cock in my mouth. I cannot make my intentions any clearer.”

Teeth press into the meat of his hand and Tadeas gasps and shudders, arousal warming his cheeks and his lap. 

“Gareth,” he pants and the captain’s grin turns predatory.

“I cannot wait to have you.”

“Then don’t wait. Have me. Please, I’ve never wanted-“ Gareth cuts him off with a kiss, rough and claiming. The older man’s tongue thrusts into his mouth and his hands grip tight at Tadeas’s hips, keeping him from thrusting up against the man’s stomach. Tadeas whimpers and squirms, wanting nothing more than to press up against the captain, to entice the older man to take him.

“Not tonight,” Gareth says when he pulls away. Tadeas wants to argue, but Gareth looks serious and he remembers that the captain wants to wait until Tadeas is officially his. It seems silly to the slave, but he yearns to show his master that he can do something right when it seems he keeps doing things wrong.

Tadeas brushes his fingertips over Gareth’s swollen, bottom lip. “Your mouth then?” he asks, looking up at Gareth through his lashes. The older man smirks and presses a kiss to his fingertips.

“Of course.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for following Tadeas and Gareth's journey! I was genuinely surprised and pleased at how much people loved my two OCs so I hope you all enjoy the last chapter of their story.

“Go back to sleep, Tadeas. It’s early.”

“Oh, I hadn’t noticed. _Somebody_ was flopping around on the bed.”

Gareth chuckles, low and dark, and the noise sparks unbidden desire deep in Tadeas’s belly. _Too early for that,_ he muses when his cock gives a half-hearted twitch and pushes himself out from the warm covers and soft bed. Gareth kneels beside a chest on the floor, eyes half-closed as he rummages through the contents. His hair is mussed with sleep and his face slack with exhaustion. Finally, he finds what he is searching for and pulls out a tunic. 

“Strip,” Tadeas says and plucks the clothing out of his hands.

“You don’t have-“

“The faster you dress, the more sleep I get. Now, hush.”

A tired smile tugs at the corners of Gareth’s mouth and he presses a kiss to the slave’s forehead before following the order. Tadeas begins dressing him and a comfortable silence settles onto the pair as he works. Gareth loops one arm around his waist and lifts the other to comb through his sleep-tousled locks, picking out knots and parting it properly. Tadeas hums, soft and pleased, as he twists the cloth and pins it at the shoulder.

“There,” he says, fingers plucking and arranging the garment where it bunches around Gareth’s waist. “Ready for the day. Now, leave and let me sleep.”

Gareth laughs and wraps both arms around Tadeas’s waist, pulling him closer. His eyes dance with amusement and Tadeas fights to look displeased. It must not work because Gareth smiles at him fondly and presses gentle kisses along his brow, cheeks, and nose.

“Let go, old man,” he growls and pushes at Gareth’s chest.

“Not yet. I need to bask in Tadeas before I’m in meetings all day.”

Tadeas huffs but allows the older man to indulge in gentle caresses and warm kisses on his face and neck. 

“What am I supposed to do all day anyway?”

Gareth hums absently and nibbles at his collarbone. 

“Gareth,” he prompts, poking the man in the side just to feel him jump.

“Roam the castle, ride Emanon, explore the city, you can do anything you want really.”

Tadeas chews his bottom lip, turning the ideas over in his head and casting each one aside. Perhaps he will choose one of the captain’s books and spend the entire day reading. He glances around the room and shudders at the idea of being stuck within the stone walls all day. Still, being trapped and secure is better than…

A calloused thumb brushes over his bottom lip and tugs it out from between his teeth. “Patras is nothing like Vere.” Gareth cups his cheek and runs his thumb across a sharp cheekbone. “No one will harm you. The guards will look out for you.”

“I doubt that,” Tadeas huffs, then flushes hard when he remembers the rank of the man before him. 

“They will; I’ve trained them.” The slave opens his mouth to apologize or to protest, he isn’t sure, but fingers wrap around one of his wrists and pull his arm up in between the pair. “I know you don’t like them,” Gareth indicates the gold wrapped around his wrist, a sign of his slavery, “but these will protect you. The people of Patras value slaves and the guards are trained to protect them.”

Tadeas must still look hesitant because Gareth adds, “You are free to stay here all day. But if you would like to leave, you are welcome to. Just please be back before nightfall.”

Tadeas nods and leans up to press a gentle kiss to Gareth’s mouth. They indulge for a few moments, mouths moving languid and familiar against one another. Tadeas shudders against him and Gareth pulls back with a chuckle. “That is my cue to leave before you entice me back to bed.” The slave blushes and nods, disappointment curling in his chest.

“Tonight, I promise,” Gareth murmurs and kisses him again.

***  
Tadeas took Gareth’s advice and spent the day riding Emanon through the fields and paths behind the castle still within the outer walls of Basal. The day was sunny and warm with a light breeze that teased the young man’s hair and tunic as he rode. The horse handled beautifully and easily cleared any obstacles that Tadeas guided them over. It was the most carefree he had felt since he could remember, even with the clanking gold at his wrists and neck. 

He was careful to return well before sunset in order to give Emanon a thorough brush-down and a treat of chestnuts, and take a bath to ease muscles sore from riding and clear the sweat from his skin.

Now, the slave stretches across Gareth’s bed, indulging in the feel of soft sheets against his bare skin, tunic discarded to the floor. Gareth appreciated his boldness the day before and even teased him for not taking the initiative to sleep in his bed. It’s not that Tadeas hadn’t considered it. He had and quickly discarded the thought, anxious not to insult Gareth by taking too many liberties. Of course, Gareth had no such qualms.

Thus, his current state of nudity amongst Gareth’s sheets. If the man appreciated boldness, Tadeas could give him boldness.

The door to the outer room creaks when it opens and Tadeas’s stomach does a flip. He has a moment to worry about taking things too far, about insulting Gareth, about getting cast out of his bed, before the sound of boots across stone stops in the archway of the bedchamber.

“Oh,” Gareth says, eyes wide at the scene before him. The word sounds like someone punched it out of his chest and Tadeas blushes hard, anxiety heightening when Gareth doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, just stands in the doorway and stares.

He made a mistake. The thought is heavy and chills erupt across his body. He brings his arms down to cover his body, to curl away from Gareth’s stare.

“No,” Gareth croaks in a rush of air, hand lifting towards him. He clears his throat when Tadeas freezes mid-motion. “Please, lay how you were before. Let me look at you.”

If Tadeas was blushing before, his face flames now with his embarrassment. His heart thuds as he lifts his arms above his head, spreads his legs a little, and tilts his hips in a way that he knows makes his body look long, lean, and enticing. Gareth’s eyes devour him, roaming over every inch of his skin from where he stands in the doorway. Tadeas feels eager and can almost imagine hands on him instead of Gareth’s heavy gaze.

“Did you ride today?” Gareth asks, voice roughened with lust. Tadeas nods and shifts, restless and yearning for the man to come closer. “Your skin is golden.” 

“Gareth, come to bed,” he says softly and wishes he didn’t sound so meek. Gareth does this to him, makes him feel small, makes him want to submit without rough hands, force, or commands. 

“I asked the king for you today.” The captain finally moves and comes to stand beside the bed. He cups Tadeas’s cheek and runs a thumb over his cheekbone when the young man nuzzles into his hand. “You are mine, if you wish it.”

“What I wish is for you to fuck me.” He nips at the heel of Gareth’s hand and delights in the gasp it pulls from the captain. He feels strong with the knowledge that just his skin, just the image of him lying in a bed, can affect his captain so. 

Gareth strips off his tunic in a flurry of fabric and crawls onto the bed to loom over Tadeas, legs and arms framing the younger man’s body as he leans in for a kiss. The kiss is rough and desperate. Gareth’s hands are everywhere at once, roaming the length of his skin, pressing, pinching, and rubbing in an uncalculated pattern that has Tadeas writhing against the sheets in moments, cock quickly swelling.

“Gareth, please,” Tadeas breaks away from the kiss to whimper against his neck.

“I want to take my time, but I cannot resist you.”

“We can take our time next time.” He loops his arms around the captain’s neck and pulls him in for another kiss, this one gentler and slower than before despite his words. 

The desperate movement of their bodies slows and hands caress instead of rub. Tadeas runs his fingers over broad shoulders and down Gareth’s back to cup at his backside. He pulls and Gareth thrusts down. Both men groan at the sensation, breaking their kiss to pant against each other’s mouths. Tadeas plants his feet and pushes up when Gareth rolls his hips again, the pleasure greater than before. The younger man moans and presses his nails into Gareth’s hips, guiding the friction of their thrusting in a haze of pleasure and want.

A large hand splays over the soft skin of his belly and presses down when he tries to thrust up again, pressure enough to keep his hips on the bed. He blinks and tries to focus on brown eyes, warm with affection and lust.

“Why-“

“You are irresistible. I will spend before I’m inside you if you keep rubbing against me.”

Tadeas blushes at the statement, embarrassed at the desperation that overcame him and allowed him to thrust against Gareth’s body like some dog in heat. 

Gareth tuts and presses a kiss to his brow. “None of that,” he murmurs into the slave’s forehead. “I enjoy you finding your pleasure. See?” He grasps one of Tadeas’s hands and pulls it down to cup between his legs, erection large and thick with the evidence of his pleasure. “You have made me stiffer than I have ever been.”

Tadeas shudders at the heated gaze Gareth levels on him then. “Gareth,” he gasps, wrapping fingers around the older man’s cock and stroking it. Gareth closes his eyes, thrusts gently into the circle of his hand, and groans, a deep, guttural noise that leaves Tadeas feeling eager for more.

“You test me.”

Tadeas chuckles and Gareth smiles at the noise. He stops the movement of Tadeas’s hand on his cock and presses the slave’s hands into the sheets next to his head instead. “Stay,” he orders with a wink and Tadeas laughs. He’ll indulge the man for a moment. If Gareth really wants to pleasure him, he’s not going to deny him.

Gareth works down the length of his body, charting a path with gentle fingers, sharp nips, and soft kisses as he moves. He stops at Tadeas’s chest and blows air across his small nipples, thumb circling one as his mouth kisses the other. They don’t hurt like before when they were oversensitive from Gareth’s enthusiastic treatment, but they are still sensitive. Luckily, the captain must be able to tell because he moves down to the soft skin of his belly and hips before Tadeas can become overwhelmed.

Gareth litters his hips and lower belly with kisses as hands press against the backs of his thighs, pushing his legs up and apart to expose his entrance and give Gareth more room to settle between.

“Can I use my mouth?” The question confuses Tadeas. Gareth has used his mouth on Tadeas’s cock twice now; he thought the permission abundantly clear. He nods anyway, brows furrowed, and watches the smile on Gareth’s face turn sharp. He doesn’t have more than a moment to question the predatory grin before Gareth ducks his head and a warm, wet something rubs over his entrance. Tadeas’s head slams back against the pillows as he cries out at the overwhelming pleasure that radiates from his backside. Tongue, that’s his tongue, is all he can think as Gareth licks over his entrance again and again. His thighs tremble and try to close, but strong fingers grip into the meat of them and force them open.

“Is this alright?” Gareth asks, breath warm against his backside and that shouldn’t feel good, but it does. The captain is near the most sensitive part of his body, laving it with a type of attention no one has ever lowered themselves to doing for a slave.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, head thrashing desperately and hands clutching at the sheets. Gareth chuckles, nips the skin where cheek meets thigh, making Tadeas jerk, and ducks down again to lick at furled skin.

It’s warm and wet and overwhelming. Tadeas shakes with sensation and drops his hands down to sink fingers into Gareth’s thick curls. The man grins a little, a strange thing to realize because of the press of skin against his flank, and the pressure against the slave’s entrance becomes more incessant. Gareth cups his cheeks and spreads them further, making Tadeas writhe at the openness and the deeper licks of his tongue.

The pleasure is maddening, white-hot, and pooling in his groin. The threat of orgasm builds in his cock and he thinks he could come just from this, just from Gareth’s talented mouth against his hole. 

As soon as the thought crosses his mind, Gareth pulls away to kneel between his legs. He sobs and clutches at the captain’s skin, trying to urge him back down. Gareth grins, wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, and stays on his knees as if he didn’t just drive Tadeas to the height of pleasure and stop before it could crest.

“Gareth, please,” he whines. He knows he’s being desperate and that will embarrass him later, but it’s hard to think when pleasure still tingles his spine and his thighs still twitch.

“I’ll make you come with just my mouth one day.” Tadeas moans at the filthy suggestion said so candidly. “But tonight, I want to have you. Please allow me that.”

Tadeas nods his head and spreads his legs a little more, eager for Gareth’s touch in a way he has never been eager for anyone before. The man has been patient and giving in bed, seeing to Tadeas’s pleasure and comfort before heeding his own. Tadeas doesn’t owe him, he knows that, but he can’t help feeling like he wants to reciprocate if only to make the older man feel as good as he has felt.

Gareth presses a kiss to his knee as he settles between his legs again after getting a small vial from the bedside table. “You must tell me if it hurts, or if I overwhelm you,” he says as he pours the liquid onto his fingers.

He circles fingertips at Tadeas’s hole, already relaxed from his earlier attention. One finger presses inside and Tadeas breathes deeply to relax as the finger thrusts all the way in without stopping.

“Alright?” Gareth asks, and Tadeas blinks open his eyes, unsure of when he closed them in the first place.

“You don’t have to be so careful. I’ve done this before.”

Gareth looks like he wants to say something to that, but Tadeas is glad when he decides against it and presses a second finger inside of him instead. It doesn’t hurt but the stretch makes itself known in his thighs. He gasps and Gareth hesitates at the noise, making Tadeas push his own hips down to take the fingers in further. 

“Hurry up,” he says. “I want your cock in me soon.”

Gareth grins and quickens his pace, rubbing his fingers in and out until Tadeas’s hole relaxes around the intrusion. The third finger goes in carefully but more quickly than before and Tadeas has to breathe against the stretch and close his eyes to guard himself from the expression on Gareth’s face: too affectionate, too pleased, and too embarrassing for the young man to handle with three fingers thrusting into him and making him shudder. The fingers crook and pleasure bursts along Tadeas’s skin and behind his eyelids, making him cry out.

“Now, now, now,” he chants, fingers groping and pulling at Gareth’s arms, shoulders, any skin he can get a hold of.

Gareth chuckles and tips forward onto all fours, looming over Tadeas and framing him with sturdy limbs. The head of his cock rubs at Tadeas’s hole, loosened by his fingers. He doesn’t thrust in, merely presses against his body for a moment. An unbidden memory flashes before the slave’s mind. He’s been here before: strong guard above him with a large cock poised to thrust into his body, regardless of his objections. Tadeas flinches, cold fear dripping down his spine. 

He tries to push the thoughts away, but they won’t leave. Gareth notices the flinch and the tension that freezes his body and pulls away. Tadeas wants to apologize, to reach out and pull him back, to push away thoughts of Vere forever and replace them with memories of Gareth’s skin, Gareth’s cock, and Gareth’s thrusts. 

“Gareth-“ he croaks, reaching out, worried the man is going to realize he is too much trouble and leave the bed entirely. Gareth’s face is a storm of worry, regret, and understanding. The expression passes in a blink and he flops onto the bed next to Tadeas with a wide grin and relaxed limbs. 

“I want you to be on top,” he says easily as if this was his plan all along, as if Tadeas wasn’t allowing dark thoughts to ruin the night. Tadeas opens his mouth to protest, but Gareth cups his cheek and presses a thumb to his parted lips. “Please, indulge me.”

Tadeas launches himself at the other man, pushing across the bed and into his arms with such force Gareth grunts. He presses their mouths together and thanks Gareth in the only way he knows how: with a passionate tongue and roaming hands. He’s incessant and needy, wanting only to wrap his mind and body in Gareth and banish all thoughts of Vere from existence. He flings a leg over Gareth’s hips and grinds their cocks together. Gareth groans into his mouth and grips the meat of his thigh, fingertips pressing bruises into his skin.

Gareth breaks their kiss and steadies the thrusting of their hips with his large hands. Instinct drives Tadeas forward in minute thrusts that meet only air, even as Gareth pulls back. 

“I will spill if you do not stop,” he says in a low voice that makes Tadeas shudder. “Do you want that?”

Tadeas shakes his head, pleased at the choice of pleasure without penetration, but craving the penetration like never before. He wants Gareth to take him. He wants the memories of Gareth inside him. 

“I want you,” he says and Gareth’s grin is full of affection and wonder. It warms Tadeas and makes him a little breathless that something so simple could make his companion so pleased.

They shuffle into a new position. Gareth rests back against the headboard, half-sitting and half-reclining, knees bent and feet planted on the bed so his thighs can help steady Tadeas. The young man straddles his hips, legs spread across his body and hands splayed over his stomach. The head of Gareth’s cock rests against his hole but no painful images accompany the sensation. Tadeas goes to rock back, to take the cock into him, but Gareth’s firm grip on his hips stops him.

“Wait,” the older man murmurs, distracted and thoughtful. “Just a moment, please.”

Tadeas looks up at him, brows furrowed and confused, but Gareth’s eyes only roam over his body, silent and pensive. It makes him blush hard and look down at his own hands. He swears, Gareth could stare at him for hours, drinking in the sight of him like he is a piece of artistry and not a used-up slave. It’s all at once embarrassing and overwhelming, and makes Tadeas’s skin crawl with anticipation. 

“Gareth,” he whispers, impatient. Gareth smiles and reaches up to tuck a few strands of dark hair behind his ear.

“Go on, as slowly as you need.”

Tadeas rocks his hips backwards. There is pressure, intense and unyielding. For a moment, Tadeas is worried that Gareth’s cock will not fit, but then the head pops inside his rim, pushing against tense muscles as he tries to relax. He gasps at the sensation and his hands tighten into fists. It’s too much, just the head of his cock feels like he is being split open. 

A hand brushes up the side of his waist and trails fingers over the bottom of his rib cage. “You need to relax or it will hurt,” Gareth says, brushing fingers back and forth across his skin. Tadeas turns his mind to that caress, to the slight tickle of those fingers, and breathes through the soreness in his backside. 

“Good.” Gareth nudges at his hip with his other hand and guides the younger man down his cock inch by inch. It takes forever, Tadeas gets impatient with himself and tries to push his hips faster, resulting only in a burn-stretch between his thighs and Gareth tutting at him to slow down. He listens and lets Gareth guide him backwards, the older man seeming to know when his body is relaxed enough to take every inch.

His thighs burn from holding himself up and it is relief to finally settle back, flank cradled in the curve Gareth’s lap and back resting against Gareth’s raised thighs. Strong hands rub his thighs and he groans, content to sit for a moment and let Gareth lavish him with attention. He feels full and he floats between that sensation and the pleasure-pain of Gareth massaging his already sore muscles.

“Alright?” Gareth asks softly. Tadeas blinks open his eyes and grins at the affection radiating from Gareth’s face.

“Better.” He shifts in Gareth’s lap and grinds down against the cock in him. Gareth’s eyes widen comically and the groan he emits sounds like it was punched out of his stomach unbidden. Tadeas grins, feeling powerful even stuffed full with cock, and grinds his hips down again. Hands grip tight at his hips, fingers bruising as Gareth tries to get some semblance of control. Tadeas only laughs and bats at his hands.

“Hold on, old man,” he says, cheeky and bold. He raises himself up and drops down without hesitation. He moans and the sound is echoed by Gareth, fingers still tight on his hips like he is trying to hold on before he is swept away by sensation. The captain’s jaw clenches tight and his face screws up in a grimace when Tadeas rises and falls again. 

“Relax. Don’t grip so hard.” Tadeas covers his hands with his own and rubs back and forth over the backs of them. “It’s as if you’re trying to hold back.”

“I am.”

“Well don’t. I can take anything you have to give.”

This time, when Tadeas pushes himself up and back down, Gareth meets him halfway with a powerful thrust that jostles the young man and forces him to bounce back up. He yelps, the thrust striking that spot inside him that makes stars burst behind his eyelids, and scrambles to hold onto something to steady himself so he doesn’t tip over. Gareth chuckles.

“Bastard,” he grumbles, then moans when the smug captain thrusts up again. Gareth is relentless, thrusting up before he can come back down in a random pattern that all at once jostles him and throws off any rhythm he was attempting to create. Sometimes Gareth meets him halfway. Other times, he drives his hips up before Tadeas can even begin to come down. Still other times, Gareth rests his hips against the bed and doesn’t thrust at all. Tadeas can’t predict it. He can’t relax and it takes every ounce of his concentration not to tip forward onto the man. Every thrust makes his brain swim with pleasure as tingles erupt onto his skin and alight his insides with warmth. 

Gareth takes mercy on him sometime later. The captain grips his shoulders and guides him to lean forward onto his chest, head tucked into the curve of his neck. 

“Hold on,” he mutters into a sweaty brow, “relax, and let go.”

Tadeas isn’t sure he knows how to relax during sex. He doesn’t know how to not think, to turn his brain off of his surroundings and focus only on sensation. Gareth proves him wrong.

The next thrust is just as powerful as before and the new angle drives Gareth’s length straight into that spot. He whimpers, the spot swollen inside from all the friction so far, and writhes on Gareth’s chest, effectively rubbing his cock against rippled abs. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” he babbles and he can feel Gareth grin against his forehead. The older man isn’t playing anymore, trying to tease and catch him off guard with random thrusts. He is incessant. His hips drive into Tadeas’s tight channel and his hands push the slave’s backside down to meet his thrusts, rocking the young man’s cock against his body with every movement. Tadeas is hot all over, his thighs tremble, and his head is fuzzy with sensation and pleasure. He can feel the warmth growing in his stomach and lower back and he knows he won’t last long.

“Close, close, please,” he whines and his fingers scrabble at Gareth’s shoulders as he tries to push his own hips down to meet the strong, relentless thrusts of his captain. Gareth groans and quickens his pace, hips snapping against his body. The bed creaks and the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room over the backdrop of moans, pants, and whimpers. 

Tadeas is aware of none of this, brain consumed only with the pleasure that dances along his skin, the fire within his stomach, and the long cock that drives in and out of his hole. He cries out as white-hot pleasure bursts along his limbs and comes, spurting between their stomachs.

Gareth groans, deep and guttural, into his ear and keeps thrusting, chasing his own pleasure. He pounds Tadeas’s spot, swollen and oversensitive, making the young man writhe and tense around him. The overwhelming pleasure borders on pain and Tadeas cries out, half-wanting to climb off of the man and half-wanting to let him continue for hours. It’s only moments later when Gareth comes, stilling inside of him and pumping him full. Tadeas whines at the feeling and shudders.

He floats, brain hazy with orgasm and limbs loose and languid. He is aware of Gareth pulling out, but only enough to whimper and nuzzle into the older man’s neck. Gareth’s arms wrap around him and lips graze his forehead.

The pair stays like that for long moments, panting until their breath returns to normal and basking in the warm glow of pleasure and affection. Gareth’s fingers trail up and down the knobs of Tadeas’s spine, dipping lower and lower until his fingers swipe against Tadeas’s hole. The young man hisses and wiggles his hips. A fingertip brushes his hole again.

“Gareth,” he whines and tucks his head into the man’s neck.

“Can I touch you? Please? I want-“ He sounds desperate, wrecked at the idea and Tadeas can’t deny him.

“Yes, yes,” Tadeas mutters between laying kisses against the collarbone under his cheek. He’s loose with pleasure and willing to let Gareth explore any part of his body right now. He may be embarrassed later, but he sees no need to fear Gareth’s eccentric tastes. The man enjoys things like staring at him and using his tongue against his hole, all oddities that result in more pleasure for Tadeas if he indulges the man.

Two fingers press into his passage, still loosened but slightly swollen from Gareth’s earlier attention. He hisses a little and Gareth shushes him. Liquid drips from him and he wiggles at the odd sensation. Gareth’s fingers rub and swirl inside him, dipping in and out of his backside, pressing against different areas as if learning all of his entrance by touch.

“You’re so wet,” Gareth groans and Tadeas flushes hot with embarrassment. “So loose and full of my essence.” The young man’s cock twitches at the words, filling slowly with heat and pleasure. Gareth chuckles when he feels it.

“Insatiable,” he says and jabs his fingers against Tadeas’s spot. The slave yelps and grips Gareth’s shoulders hard. He can feel Gareth stirring below him, cock half-standing and pressing against his flank.

“Gareth,” he whimpers, breathless, when the older man brushes against the spot inside him again. Pleasure-pain bursts along his spine and he clenches hard on the broad shoulders beneath him. 

Soft lips brush over his sweaty brow as the fingers leave his passage. “Thank you,” Gareth breathes and pats his backside affectionately.

He pushes up to look Gareth in the eye. “Do you have a private bath?”

“Yes.” If Gareth thinks the request odd, his face doesn’t show it. 

“I’d like to soak for a moment so you can bend me over the edge of the bath and fill me again.” Gareth’s eyes close at the suggestion and he groans. “Once we are clean again, I’d like you to lift me and take me against the wall. Then-“

“I will bring you back to this bed and make love to you amongst soft sheets and pillows.” Tadeas eyes widen and he nods absentmindedly. Gareth smiles up at him and cups his cheek with a tenderness still unfamiliar to Tadeas.

“We are celebrating after all,” Gareth says, thumb brushing over the young man’s lower lip.

“Celebrating what?”

“The fact that I belong to you now.” Tadeas laughs, light and happy, heady with affection for the odd man beneath him. 

Gareth shows him to the bath where they wash each other with gentle hands and Gareth massages his overworked muscles. They meet in a tangle of limbs in the bath, against the wall, and finally in the bed until both are utterly spent, unable to stiffen, and Tadeas is feeling both sore and satiated. He nuzzles into Gareth’s chest as strong arms wrap around him securely. He falls asleep to the sound of Gareth’s gentle breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, and with the final thought that Alaric and Erasmus were right. Patras has treated him well.


End file.
